


Second Nature

by drandmrsmclaughlin, santamonicayachtclub



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Coming Out, Knotting, M/M, Male Lactation, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Multi, Pining, Religious Conflict, Rimming, Sexuality Crisis, Surrogacy, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 21:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drandmrsmclaughlin/pseuds/drandmrsmclaughlin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/santamonicayachtclub/pseuds/santamonicayachtclub
Summary: Welcome to the Rhink a/b/o verse no one asked for!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will eventually contain explicit sexual scenes, but not until the boys are over 18. There will also be some eventual mpreg. Tags will reflect more specific elements with each update, but we felt it was important to mention this one from the start so no one feels hoodwinked into reading mpreg (or knotting, or super awkward moments between bffs). For additional info on worldbuilding, please see below.

Whoever said high school was the best time of a person’s life was either delusional, extraterrestrial, or part of a masochistic propaganda stunt, because high school completely and utterly kicks Rhett’s ass.

It’s not for any of the typical reasons. He gets straight A’s, is pretty successful at dating, and never has more than a pimple or two at a time. He’s awesome at basketball and still growing, which makes him stand out even more both on the court and in general because everyone thinks he’ll end up being a literal giant someday.

That’s the thing, though. It’s borderline impossible for Rhett to _not_ stand out. Literally, metaphorically, the whole shebang. It’s tough to be a shrinking violet when you’re fourteen and six-four.

Normally, Rhett thinks he does an okay job of owning it. It’s not like he can _do_ anything about being so tall. But sometimes he kind of envies his classmates who are the size you’d expect your average freshman guy to be. Especially when his alpha hormones start kicking in. Rhett’s never wanted to hide more urgently in his life.

He knew he was an alpha about halfway through eighth grade--his parents picked up on the scent change, his pediatrician checked his hormone levels, everything panned out pretty much as expected--but the secondary traits really went into overdrive when he hit high school. Until then, Rhett was under the impression that alphas only had trouble controlling themselves when they were close to an omega. Which, in his case, is a non-issue since there hasn’t been an omega in Buies Creek for a good twenty-five years.

But Rhett’s alpha impulses are pretty freewheeling. _Everyone_ smells incredible--betas _and_ other alphas, regardless of gender. Now he has to deal with pheromone overload constantly. Not to mention his so-called best friend, who has zero self-consciousness about saying these things, leaning over all the time to ask, "Dude, is that a fold in your pants or did you get your knot?" Rhett might have mastered the art of discreetly pulling his bookbag into his lap, but nothing escapes Link’s observation.

Link is _fascinated_ by alpha biology, which Rhett grudgingly figures is understandable seeing as there’s basically zero chance of Link turning out to be an alpha himself. Rhett's relatives are a pretty even mix of alphas and betas, while Link’s skew more towards betas and he's never been close enough to his alpha dad to have many of his alpha-related questions answered.

Then something weird happens.

They’re sprawled in the den at Rhett’s place, surrounded by Super Nintendo consoles and crumpled Hi-C juice boxes because Link likes to show off how fast he can suck them dry. Rhett’s busy navigating Luigi through Iggy’s Castle for the thirty thousandth time and not really paying attention to anything but the tinny soundtrack and traversing the lava fields when he realizes Link’s been talking to him. “It’s like, you’re getting six inches taller and gaining twenty pounds of muscle every week and I’m like...a dorky little elf following you around.”

“I thought elves were tall and graceful,” Rhett says, without looking away from the screen. Luigi narrowly escapes being crushed by a boulder.

He can practically feel the force of Link’s sigh. “Elves in, like, _Lord of the Rings_ are, yeah. But I’m talking more like Christmas elves. I don’t wanna be a Christmas elf forever, brother; sooner or later you’ve gotta quit growing and lemme catch up some.”

Rhett snorts. “C’mon, everybody loves them some Christmas.”

He already knows what’s going to come out of Link’s mouth next and courteously doesn’t say the words along with him.

“Hey, so do I smell any different to you?”

“Yeah, you smell like Fritos and fruit punch.” Rhett dispatches Iggy with a final barrage of fireballs and turns enough to grin at the exasperated look on Link’s face. The apple cheeks and the pout really do make him look like an elf that escaped straight off a Rice Krispies box and isn’t too happy about it.

But it’s kind of a lie, which makes Rhett’s chest feel all rigid with agitation because he doesn’t lie to Link. He doesn’t. It’s just that Link’s usual scent really _is_ kind of off these days. But that could be the new potpourri his mom stashed around the house, or maybe Link switched deodorants or something. And it wouldn’t be fair for Rhett to tell him, yeah, he does smell a little different and then get his hopes up when it could be another freaking year before Link blossoms into a flower of betahood or whatever. It definitely wouldn’t be fair for Rhett to pounce on Link, pin him to the floor, and bury his nose against his skin the way his stupid alpha hormones are begging him to do.

And if he’s totally honest with himself, this isn’t exactly brand-new either. They were watching _Terminator 2_ at Link’s place a couple weekends ago and Rhett got this overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around Link and see how tight he could squeeze him before he started squealing. It's not hard to incorporate that kind of move into their interactions, they do a fair amount of play fighting and practicing wrestling moves on each other, but that time the impulse hit him so hard and fast it was like getting struck by lightning. At the time, Rhett had just thought it was kind of strange and tried to focus on Arnold kicking ass.

So, since he’s had to put up with Link asking him every day for the last three months if he’d mind smelling him with extra gusto, Rhett tries to dispatch that issue too, lack of fireballs notwithstanding. “Or maybe…wait a minute.” He takes a huge, ostentatious inhale while Link watches him, eyes wide and eager. “Yeah, man, I knew it. That’s not Fritos, that’s just your feet.”

He’s laughing when Link throws a double fistful of Hi-C boxes at him.

 

* * *

 

In fifth grade, Maggie Weber was the first girl in Link’s class to get her period and everyone knew it. She broke down crying at her desk when Mrs. Chambers wouldn’t give her a bathroom pass and within an hour the whole class knew why, including Link, who only had the haziest idea of what periods entailed besides blood and terror.

Maggie weathered the ignominy of that day with aplomb, gained a wary sort of respect from the fifth grade population, and was never denied a bathroom pass again. She moved away the summer before seventh grade because her dad got a job in Georgia. Link hasn’t thought about her in ages, but it’s the image of Maggie Weber sobbing in her seat that crystallizes in his memory the day he has a near-death experience in science class.

He’s not ten anymore and he’s not an idiot, he knows what periods are and why they happen. And there’s still blood and terror involved, but in general it’s something girls learn to expect. He just can’t for the life of him think of a male equivalent that explains why his--Link cringes just trying to get his mind around the words--why his _butt_ is wet.

It makes him squirm in his seat and want to die just thinking it, but there’s literally no other way he can think of phrasing it. There’s definitely some kind of leakage happening and, somehow or other, he’s gonna die. Maybe he ate something funny and he’s about to have explosive diarrhea, maybe his organs spontaneously liquefied from sheer pubescent agony, maybe he should just grab a Bunsen burner off the back table and light himself on fire so he doesn’t have to deal with the aftereffects of whatever the hell is wrong with him. Thank God Rhett’s in a separate class because Link definitely doesn’t want to die knowing his best friend was there to witness his last undignified moments on earth.

He’s stone cold silent for the rest of the class because he’s channeling all his mental and physical energy into just not moving, not embarrassing himself, and not attracting attention. It probably has the opposite effect, since the most out of character thing that Link could possibly do is clam up for a whole half hour, but this doesn’t occur to him until much later. All he knows is that he’s going to die, his butt is betraying him, and Holly Frank keeps giving him concerned looks which obviously means she _knows._

Fortunately, no one gives him a second glance when he lags behind, pretending to rummage through his backpack for something. He waits for the perfect moment, when the room is all cleared out but the next class hasn’t started filing in, before he bolts for the nearest bathroom like his life depends on it. Which it seriously might.

After a silent pep talk and a few splashes of cold water, Link examines himself in the bathroom mirror and decides he probably just ate something funny. He doesn’t feel sick, just  _weird_ , so maybe it really is some kind of stomach issue. His mom is always warning him about living on nothing but cereal and PB&Js without the J, so it's probably just catching up to him. He resolves to eat a salad for dinner when he gets home, makes a mental note to stash some extra underwear in his locker for the next few days, and sends up a silent but urgent series of prayers that this won’t happen again. He doubts God wants to hear about the state of his butt so it’s really in both their best interests for him to rain down a little mercy.

He books it back through the halls and makes it to history class half a second before the late bell. Mr. Oliver gives him a raised eyebrow, but spares him a reprimand. Link sinks into his seat and returns Rhett's low five from across the aisle when Mr. Oliver turns towards the board to start writing. Out of breath from his run, Link pretends not to notice Rhett glancing at him, trying to catch his eye. He doesn't exactly have an explanation right now anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

By the end of the week, his body hasn’t done anything particularly mortifying and Link is starting to think he might actually be okay.

The next thing he knows, his homeroom teacher is gently informing him that she made an appointment for him with the school counselor and Link is so flummoxed he doesn’t know what to say.

“Am I in trouble?” he squeaks.

Mrs. Doherty shakes her head. “Not at all. Mrs. Pugh just has a few questions for you. I already wrote you a pass for it. Take all the time you need.”

This doesn’t assuage Link’s anxiety very much, but having a hall pass literally dangled in front of him is enough to make him stop asking questions. Almost. “It’s okay for me to miss class?”

He can’t quite decipher the look Mrs. Doherty gives him. Her brows tilt upward and her eyes go all soft-looking, like Link is a kitten she just found by the side of the road. “If this becomes a habit, we’ll  work something out.”

Which isn’t exactly a yes, but it’s close enough. Mrs. Doherty still has that weird look on her face, so Link just mumbles his thanks and totters into the hall.

Ten minutes later, he’s wishing he’d flushed the freaking hall pass down the toilet and never set foot in the counselor’s office.

It’s not that he dislikes Mrs. Pugh. She’s plump and grandmotherly looking, with massive glasses and short crisp-curled hair, and even though they’ve only spoken a few times she remembers not to call him Charles. She has him settle into one of the cracked vinyl chairs across from her desk and they exchange the standard awkward pleasantries that go hand in hand with being sent to the counselor for some undisclosed reason. Then Mrs. Pugh starts steering things into choppier waters. “Link, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to discuss any changes you might have noticed happening to you lately.”

Link just blinks like an idiot. “Um, I haven’t really noticed anything.”

“Let me be a little more specific. Have there been any changes happening to your body that you’ve observed recently?”

“That’s...kind of a personal subject,” Link hedges, wondering how the heck he still hasn’t died. Is this something every freshman gets, a personal one-on-one chat with Mrs. Pugh about metamorphosing into a man? How did this ever get past the school board?

A faint frown tugs at the edges of Mrs. Pugh’s practically nonexistent lips. “I understand that. Why don’t you tell me a little more about your genetic history?”

“What,” Link says blankly, his voice cracking.

“What I mean is,” Mrs. Pugh says, with just the hint of exasperation, “are any of your relatives omegas?”

And that’s when everything finally falls into place, so suddenly it’s like a steel trap clanging shut inside Link’s skull. The world dissolves into ether aside from that one word and it’s all Link can do to claw air into his lungs.

“Link?” Mrs. Pugh prompts.

“I think I have a disease,” Link blurts out. That's how unlikely being an omega is to him; it seems more plausible that he's only got six months to live.

“I’m fairly sure you don’t.” He thinks Mrs. Pugh is trying to be reassuring, but it’s hard to tell.

Link can’t even look at her. He stares fixedly at the framed diplomas and certificates lined up on the wall behind her desk and croaks, “Why am I really here?”

"Oh, a few of your teachers sought me out," Mrs. Pugh says airily, like this is no big deal instead of the worst moment of Link’s life.

And of course Link has to ask, he can’t not ask, it’s in his nature to press for details and that’s probably going to kill him someday if his body doesn’t do it first. “A _few?_ Who?”

He thinks he blacks out for a minute as she informs him, as clinically and calmly as can be, that it was...pretty much all his teachers. His _teachers_ have been discussing his weird smell and who knows what else, and what if they could tell he was leaking, oh God, Link might as well just drop out of school and go live in a cave.

By the time Mrs. Pugh asks if he’s noticed any discharge _down there_ , Link is steadily dissolving into nothingness. He has to be positively puce with humiliation and there’s a crick in his neck from straining it to read every last framed certificate on the wall to make sure she's qualified to be asking him these potentially fatal things.

She tries to be nice about it, and that almost makes it worse. “I know this is uncomfortable, Link. It’s a lot to take in all at once. I’m just trying to confirm a few things with you, and as a counselor I can’t legally diagnose you with anything. What I can do is recommend you see your family doctor and learn some more about what might be happening to you.”

“But you think that’s what it is?” Link hates how close to tears he sounds. “You can’t, like, _say_ it, but you’re pretty sure I’m…?”

Mrs. Pugh has the same soft look in her eyes as Mrs. Doherty when she nods.

Then the next thing Link knows, he's standing outside the guidance office with a fistful of pamphlets and wondering how the hell he's supposed to tell his mom, to tell _Rhett_ , that he's an omega.

It might be easier to just tell them he's got six months to live.

He knows that it's supposed to be a good thing, omegas are rare and special, but Link has spent his life up to this point trying to blend in as much as possible. He couldn’t even open his mouth when Mrs. Pugh asked him if he had any questions. His body just turned into one big ball of anxiety and all he could do was fervently shake his head even though he wanted, _still_ wants, to demand how in the world he’s meant to go through life like this, especially since there's no one he knows who can show him the ropes here. What happens when he starts having heat cycles? Is everyone gonna be able to smell the pheromones spilling off him in waves? Can he just quit school and change his name? Even if he _did_ know another omega, he doesn't think he could handle having a mentor tell him about these things. He'd die of embarrassment a thousand times a day.

He wanders into class feeling like an avalanche just fell on him and somehow manages to successfully hand over his pass and take his seat without falling over. He must look pretty shell-shocked, because less than a minute later Rhett passes him a note asking what's wrong.

Link doesn't even know how to answer it. Knowing his luck, the second he wrote down _just learned I'm an omega_ and passed it back, the teacher would intercept the note and make him read it out loud. And then he'd probably cry.

Instead, he just sits there and stares at his hands and ignores Rhett until the bell rings.

 

* * *

 

 

Link is a wreck, which means Rhett is also a wreck from not knowing why.

The instant class is over, he pulls Link into the faculty bathroom near the gym, the one no faculty members ever actually use anyway. It’s only meant to accommodate one person and it smells like cheap vanilla air freshener, but it’s got plenty of privacy and that’s what matters most.  

“Hey,” Rhett says gently, because Link still won’t look at him, still hasn’t said a word, and still seems like he’s on the verge of disintegrating on the spot. “What’s going on, brother?”

Link just shakes his hair over his face even more, gripping the dingy lip of the sink so hard Rhett expects to hear either bone or porcelain cracking.  “They…they...” he starts, so haltingly it makes Rhett’s chest twist up in sympathy. “Oh man, everybody _knows_ , they--everybody can tell and I--”

“Tell _what?”_ Rhett bursts out, unable to contain himself.

Link drags in a breath that sounds like sandpaper. Under his bangs, his eyes are screwed shut. “Mrs. Pugh, she--she just told me I'm an omega."

And just like that, Rhett’s world fissures apart.  

He’s known Link most of his life, knows him like the lines on his own palms and the growing pains arcing through his spine, knows him so well sometimes he can hear what Link’s about to say before he even says it. But he never could have anticipated _this_.

He stares down at Link, torn between altruistic best friend compassion and pure selfish celebration, because there's a part of him that's really, really happy Link is an omega and he can’t quite articulate why. At the very least, it helps explains some of the weirder urges he's had lately.

“Holy shit, man,” he mutters, trying to bring a hand to scratch his head, only to be painfully reminded they’re in a space the size of a phone booth. “You, uh, wanna…?” He jerks his head fractionally and spreads his hands, palms out, willing Link to get the message.

Link looks for a second like he’s considering just darting out the door and hiding.

Then his chin dips, a _yeah_ slides out of his mouth in a grateful sigh, and just like that he’s got his face buried in Rhett’s chest.

Rhett’s arms come up automatically, wrapping around him with all the hug mojo he’s been secretly hoarding for the past few months. Rhett thinks if he could just keep hugging Link forever, maybe he could make being an omega seem a little less terrible for him.

"I dunno how to _be_ this, man," Link wails into Rhett's shirt, voice splintering in a way that normally Rhett would make fun of.

Rhett just squeezes him even harder, until Link squawks in protest and shakes himself free. "It's okay, we'll figure it out. Just...c’mon, it means you're special, right? Nothing wrong with that."

Link, apropos of nothing, giggles. "Did you know Mrs. Pugh is a certified 4-H volunteer?"

“Dude, what.”

“She’s got way too many diplomas on the wall, I knew they couldn’t all be for real stuff.”

“So obviously you had to scrutinize every single one. Because _that_ makes sense.”

“What, like I was supposed to look her in the eye while she asked questions about my friggin’ butt?” Link makes a face. “Man, I’m _never_ gonna be cool. You should just, like, let me live in this bathroom and enjoy the rest of your life without me.”

“I’m a fucking giant, man, you think I don’t feel awkward sometimes? There’s no way for me to blend in.”

Link snorts. “At least your ass isn't leaking.”

Thankfully, the tardy bell muffles the sound of Rhett choking on air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been edited to include Underage Drinking and Coming Out. Proceed accordingly!

If you asked anyone but Link, you'd be led to believe that being an omega is tantamount to being some sort of royalty. His mother cries and hugs him when she finds out, and the next day, Link finds a massive cedar chest in his bedroom, already containing silk sheets and a set of scented oils that Link refuses to acknowledge. "For when you find your alpha, honey," his mom had said dreamily, hand over her heart and tears in her eyes.

Word spreads throughout the school and Link's goal of teenage invisibility is completely shattered; he can't walk down the hall without double-takes from every alpha in sight. Ms. Slade, the PE teacher, takes him aside one day and gently explains that if anyone makes Link uncomfortable during class, he shouldn't be afraid to tell her about it. Then she congratulates him on his new status and gives him a smile that Link believes should only be directed towards small furry animals. A lot of adults are giving him that smile lately.

"Dude, could you slouch a little?"

Rhett gives him a look of exasperation as he holds the library door open for him. "I'm not the one who's afraid to be seen!"

Link pulls his baseball cap further down over his face and sighs, "But everyone knows we're always together and you're like a six-foot-three lighthouse drawing everyone closer to the poor little omega kid." He avoids the librarian's eye as they skirt around the desk. He decided the safest place for their omega research mission was the university library, where there was little chance of running into any of their classmates. Rhett's dad could walk in, sure, but it's a calculated risk. Better him than Mrs. Pugh, who tries to hand Link a new pamphlet about his changing body every time they pass in the hallway.

"I don't think that's how lighthouses work," Rhett says, sinking into an exaggerated crouch and leading Link into the stacks, bow-legged.

Link smiles in spite of himself, "You're such a dork."

Even at Campbell, the resources on omega biology are limited. In the tiny human sexuality section in the far corner of the fourth floor, they find fewer than a dozen books with more than a passing mention of omegas, and two are about pregnancy, one about child-rearing, and one about _contract breeding_ , because apparently some omegas are so happy about their ability to have millions of babies that they want to do it for other people too. Link won't even let Rhett take any of those books off the shelf. This mission is harrowing enough as it is.

Since Rhett hasn’t been inundated with leaflets about his changing body, he’s completely absorbed by the information they discover. “Dude, so this says your birth canal should be fully developed by the time you're around eighteen, which is normally when heats begin," he announces in a whisper, and Link nods along even though he already knows this thanks to his pamphlet collection. "So you've got a little time before that starts, that's good, right?"

“I guess,” Link mutters grudgingly. So he has a few years before things _really_ kick into high gear. That doesn’t seem like much of a comfort when he already feels like he’s barely surviving _now._

Rhett just keeps on earnestly flipping through pages. "Hey, it says here that your sense of smell is going to be even better than an alpha's, that's kinda cool."

"Lemme see." Link reaches across the table and pulls the book from Rhett's hands.

 

 

> _The fertile omega has displayed an odor detection threshold greater than any other human, reaching its peak around the first hour of heat. Evolutionarily, this enables the omega to better choose a viable sexual partner during--_

 

"Why would you make me read this?!" Link hisses, tossing the book back across the table like it's on fire.

"Remember when you took the book right out of my hands, 'cause I do," Rhett says evenly, opening it back up. "It's saying you'll basically have a superpower, how is that a bad thing?"

"Oh, awesome, the power to better select the alpha who's going to-- going to--" he takes a slow, deep breath. "I think I'm gonna barf."

"But it's not like you _gotta_ have babies just because you can, right?"

Link rubs a hand over his face miserably. "Tell that to my mom. I think I saw her putting a onesie in my hope chest yesterday."

Link is still somewhere between the denial and acceptance stages of his omega-ness. He keeps trying to cover his hope chest with laundry so he doesn't have to make eye contact. With a chest. That has no eyes. But he can't stand the mess and always ends up putting his laundry in the hamper where it belongs. Sometimes he’ll peek inside the chest to see what other humiliations his his mom might have snuck in there, but lately he’s thinking maybe a “don't ask, don't tell” policy would be best for the sake of his sanity.

Rhett shrugs and gives him a lopsided smile. "So we'll get you some cats and we can dress those up instead."

"Yeah, that's great, I'll be that crazy omega with all the cats in baby clothes, that won't make me stand out at all," Link says, lobbing a pencil at Rhett's head.

“Talk to Mrs. Pugh, she seems like she knows all about adopting cats and you know she’s _always_ there if you need to talk.” It’s a little unnerving just how good Rhett’s impression is.

“Yeah right, last time I saw her she asked if I had any questions about the pamphlet she gave me last week. The one with all the,” Link pauses to stifle a shudder, “ _diagrams_.”

As terrifying as Mrs. Pugh’s deluge of information has been, he hasn’t been able to stop himself from poring over every last pamphlet multiple times, desperately trying to understand his body and the myriads of ways it could potentially ruin his life. He’s slowly starting to come to terms with what it means to be an omega and, as overwhelming as his pamphlet collection is, it’s also given him a decent reserve of facts to sift through. He’s realized, for one thing, that being an omega isn’t at all like the romance novels he used to sneak out of his mom’s room, where the omega characters are simpering morons who go into heat for days at a time and unfailingly end up getting ravished and mated and happily impregnated by cookie-cutter alphas. In reality, typical monthly heats last less than twenty-four hours and there are even some doctors willing to prescribe medicines to take the edge off if an omega’s cycles are particularly disruptive. And while there’s not a whole lot he can do to mask his scent, he can at least learn how to carry himself with composure and not give it up for every alpha whose eyes linger on him a beat too long.

He’s still working on the whole composure thing, but at least he’s got the not-giving-it-up part covered. Link is more than okay with being a lifelong virgin if it means he has to deal with his omega anatomy as little as possible.

“You know, I used to think when male omegas had babies they just, like, sprouted an extra hole down there,” Rhett muses.

Link snorts. “We all did, man. No one teaches you the actual facts until you’re actually living them.”

“There’s gotta be places out there with actual sex ed classes that don’t suck.” Rhett doesn’t look especially convinced on this point.

“Awesome,” Link says flatly, wrinkling his nose as he skims the index of another tome. “If you ever find out this exists, we’re totally taking a road trip to wherever it’s happening.”

 

* * *

 

Rhett tries to be, above all else, a supportive friend. He knows Link isn't happy, he knows he's scared and uncomfortable with his new identity. They spend hours at the library researching omega biology, but the knowledge only seems to make Link more miserable. So Rhett does what he can, fields all the panicked late night phone calls, sticks by his side in the halls when all the other alphas at school are staring, even sits out with him in PE when Link is feeling too uncomfortable to risk physical contact with the other guys in their class.

"Like suddenly I'm _soooo_ interesting and every alpha in school wants to be my friend," Link grumbles, pulling books from his locker and stuffing them angrily into his bookbag. "Gee, I wonder what that's about."

Rhett glances around, catching Alisha Sanders and Carrie Kelsey doing a particularly unsubtle job of staring at Link and whispering to one another. Alphas can be pretty terrible sometimes, Rhett has to admit.

"Maybe they just like you, man," he says, slinging his own bag over his shoulder. "Someone's bound to, right?"

"Please," Link says, leading Rhett towards the doors and out to the parking lot. "If they wore nose plugs they wouldn't even be looking at me."

It can’t be denied that Link's scent has changed significantly in the last few months, and Rhett is no longer the only one noticing. Most of the kids in Buies Creek have never met an omega before, which means Link's been the subject of quite a lot of attention. Unwanted attention.

"Why would I ever want to go out with an alpha when all they wanna do is sniff me?"

Rhett bites his tongue on that one; he's pretty sure they want to do a lot more than sniff.

“It’s not like it’s _real_ ,” Link grumbles. “Like I’d ever go out with someone just because they like the way I smell, come _on._  I’m not desperate just because I’m...y’know.”   

“You don’t smell _that_ good anyway,” Rhett tells him, lying through his teeth. “And for real, if anyone gets all up in your face about it, I’ll punch ‘em out for you.”

That earns him a genuine, sustained smile and Rhett swears he feels his knees buckle a little. Fortunately, Link doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, and Rhett mentally swears for the umpteenth time that things are going to stay that way for a good long time. Many things.

See, Rhett has a bit of a problem. It's not a problem on the scale of Link's life -- he didn't just suddenly find out that he can carry babies and his body is going to punish him every month that it doesn't happen for his entire adult life -- but it's definitely a pickle.

It's not that he doesn't like girls. He _really_ likes girls. It's just that, about a year ago, he started to realize that it doesn't really matter if they're betas or alphas. Sure, alpha girls smell a little different, but they still smell _really good_. And if that weren't enough to deal with, the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that the guys in their class… they're not so bad. And not just the beta guys, either. It's stupid, because the alpha boys have scents so similar to his own, but they're still so… compelling. And that's kind of an issue.

And then there’s the matter of Link sending his senses into a tailspin whenever Rhett breathes too deeply.

Link is, rightfully, incredibly preoccupied just trying to navigate life as the only omega in town. He’s pretty fed up with the alpha population of their school as a whole, and the last thing Rhett wants is for Link to think he's like one of them. If he just gives himself a few years, surely his overactive hormones will settle down and he’ll stop getting turned on each time the wind changes direction. He’ll find himself a nice beta girl, be a relatively normal guy, and Link will never have to know anything was ever any different.

So it kind of pisses him off when a year goes by, then another, and he’s still having the same old inappropriate feelings even though he’s a fucking senior in high school.

Rhett always thought he’d have his shit together by the time he was eighteen, but here he is right on the cusp and still feeling like he’s on the verge of losing his grip on life.

He’s dated a few beta girls since freshman year, nothing that lasted very long or got very far, but enough to confirm that he’s still straight enough to _like_ beta girls the way a male alpha is supposed to. It’s the part where he still kind of likes everyone else too...that’s where things get a little messier and a lot less straight.

Or at least in Rhett’s mind they do. There’s no one else who knows about this quandary, not even Link.

 

* * *

 

Link's been getting a lot of leeway from various authority figures in the last few years -- the occasional bad grade gets ignored by his mom, teachers look the other way on tardiness, that sort of thing. If Link's honest, it annoys him more than anything else. So far, the worst part about being an omega is being treated like he's made of glass. He's never taken advantage of it before.

Rhett's birthday is a special occasion, though, right?

At least, that's what he tells himself as he tucks his stepdad's half-full bottle of Jack Daniels into his jacket and slips quietly out the door.

It's not a chilly night, and by the time he reaches Rhett's house, he's starting to regret not just tossing the bottle into a backpack instead. He unzips his windbreaker as much as he dares as he rings the McLaughlins’ doorbell, glad to see Rhett answering.

"Happy birthday, bo," Link says, giving him a light shove to the shoulder, "You done eating cake?"

"I'm never done eating cake," Rhett replies, "but I guess I can save some for later."

Link quirks his head, motioning for Rhett to step out onto the porch with him. "Good," he says in a whisper, pulling his zip down to show the neck of the bottle sticking out from his jacket, "'Cause my stepdad got you a present."

The river is a bit of a walk from Rhett's house, and Link stays quiet for most of it, listening to Rhett talk about basketball practice, the new games he got for his birthday, the college applications that his dad is already making him fill out. It's good to let Rhett talk -- Link feels like he monopolizes a lot of their conversations lately, even when he tries not to. It's just tough for him not to unload on Rhett when he's the only person in the world who Link can talk to about his crazy body and all its resulting awkwardness.

It's been a while since they made it down here to the water, just the two of them. It used to be their spot, the place they'd come to goof off, to get away from their parents, to talk. Link's omega status just threw everything out of whack for them, like suddenly there was no time for just existing like they used to do when they were kids. Link doesn't remember the last time he didn't feel anxious about something. Right now, he's banking on Mr. Daniels helping him out with that.

The whiskey burns at first, but every sip gets a little easier. They pass the bottle back and forth until they're both getting a little warm, both talking a little louder than normal.

"I think I might be a lightweight," Link observes, trying his best to walk a straight line along the riverbed.

Rhett snorts, taking another swig and leaning back on his elbows on his rock. "I think you're 'sposed to mix this stuff with something for your first time, usually."

Link shrugs, climbing back up onto the larger rock next to Rhett. "Hey, 'member when we'd come down here and the person on that rock was the listener and the one on this rock was the talker?"

Rhett lets out a deep laugh, one that booms around the trees in the stillness of the air. "That a hint, man?"

"Nah," Link says, pausing when a slight breeze picks up Rhett's scent, masculine and familiar, and Link's tipsy brain goes blank, just for a second. "I was just thinking about how I think I used to listen a lot more. Think I've been doing a lot of the talking, lately."

Rhett raises his eyebrows. "Well that's okay. You've had a lot to talk about, I get it."

Sighing, Link looks back out towards the water. He doesn't feel like being an omega is a good excuse for being a shitty friend, but he's not going to fight Rhett on it. Mostly he's happy that Rhett has never seemed to get tired of listening to him whine, even when it's pretty much the same thing over and over.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, still passing the bottle back and forth between them, though Link's sips are getting smaller as his head starts to spin a little.

"You ever play the game Two Truths and a Lie?" Rhett pipes up. When Link shakes his head, he continues, "It's where you have to say three things about yourself and two are real and one's a lie, and the other person has to guess which one is the lie."

"Man, if you think there's anything you don't know about me by now, you haven't been paying attention," Link says.

"That just makes it a challenge, come on. We'll even use the rocks, we'll switch back and forth on each turn."

Link smiles, "So I have to go first, is that what you're saying?"

"I mean, you _are_ on the talking rock."

But really, what is there to say to Rhett that he hasn't already said?

"Okay, well... " Link wracks his brain for even the tiniest factoid that Rhett might have forgotten. "I hate whole wheat bread, I think Bruce Willis is hot, and I've never beaten Super Mario."

"Dude, everyone thinks Bruce Willis is hot. And I was there when you beat Super Mario; come on, man." Rhett stands up from his rock and pulls Link up from his for the switch.

"I told you there's nothing you don't know about me!" Link falls backwards onto the smaller rock, just barely catching himself on his hands before impact.

"Think you know everything about me?" Rhett asks, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. He picks up the bottle of whiskey and takes another pull, grimacing as he swallows. "Okay, so. Uh, my dad wants me to go to Campbell next year, I don't like playing basketball anymore, and and I'm scared as hell about college."

Link studies Rhett's face. "But doesn't your dad want you to go to a school with a basketball team?" When Rhett sighs, Link gets it. "Oh... okay. Why don't you just tell him you don't like it anymore?"

"Nope, follow-up questions aren't allowed," Rhett says, standing up again. "It's your turn, brother."

"That sounds like a fake rule, but sure," Link stands with some difficulty and hoists himself up onto the big rock once again. "So, um," he pauses, wanting to give Rhett something that matches the tone he set, but the booze is dulling his wit somewhat, and being downwind from Rhett again isn't helping. Alphas smell so distractingly good, even though just articulating that thought makes Link anxious. "My favorite color is red, my favorite color is blue, and… when I think about how I'm gonna have my first heat soon, I wanna die."

There's a few beats of silence before Rhett speaks. "Not really playing by the rules there, bo," he says, his voice soft.

"Yeah, well, I'm drunk," Link says. He swings his legs off the rock and stands, but the earth shifts under his feet all of a sudden and he finds himself swaying.

"Whoa, okay," Rhett jumps up, placing two big, steadying hands on Link's shoulders and guiding him down to the grass. "That's enough of the rocks, I think." He leans back against the smaller one, pulling Link up beside him. Link can't help but rest his head on Rhett's shoulder, and it makes the world slow its spin a little. Rhett is hot like a campfire and Link is already sweating, but the long arm that comes up around his shoulders makes it worth it.

"My turn," Rhett says, his voice lower now as he practically speaks into the top of Link's head. "Okay. I think Summer Tompkins is hot, I think Jason Allers is hot… and I think Chris Chadwick is hot."

Link lets the words tumble around in his head for a few moments, trying to figure out what he's supposed to be realizing here. "Summer's an alpha. Jason's an alpha too."

"Yeah."

"Chris is a beta… and a guy."

"Yup."

"Oh."

He feels Rhett start to tense against him, like he's getting ready to jump up and run away.

"Jason Allers is a dick, so I really hope that one's the lie." Link says finally, craning his neck to look up at Rhett.

Rhett's face breaks out into a smile, a really, genuinely happy smile, and for a moment, Link regrets hesitating at all. "He's a total dick, you're right. I'm not into that."

"Good," Link says, turning his eyes back to the river and letting his head fall to Rhett's shoulder again.

"I do like Summer and Chris though," Rhett continues. "And Bruce Willis. Obviously."

"Obviously," Link agrees.

"So… that's okay?"

"Course it is, man." Link's a little sad that that was even a question. With everything he's had to deal with, with everything Rhett's helped him through in the last few years, how could Link ever even care who Rhett was into? That doesn't change anything.

Rhett's arm tightens around Link's shoulders, pulling him a little closer. "Thanks, Link."

There’s a crushing handful of moments where Link feels like the crappiest friend in the world. He’s been so wrapped up in his own stupid omega drama all this time, so much so that it never occurred to him Rhett might be struggling with some drama of his own. “You know you can always tell me stuff, right?” he ventures. Maybe the reason Rhett’s been holding back is because he doesn’t think Link can handle hearing this kind of thing. Which Link can’t really blame him for, since Rhett is turning into this freaking golden demigod of an alpha who's dated a bunch of beta girls already, while Link has barely even held hands and is still scared of his own body. Why the hell _would_ Rhett expect him to be able to handle this?

But Rhett just gives a soft laugh Link doesn’t hear so much as feel. “Yeah, man, I know.”

The game is over, then, because Link is pretty sure that was the last secret they had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note! The rating has been upped to M and tags edited to include Masturbation and Mating Cycles/In Heat. Link is still 17 at this time (damn June birthday) and Rhett is 18.

The stereotype of the exotic, oversexed omega is so pervasive that Link is perfectly happy with his first and only sexual partner being his mattress.

His mattress doesn’t judge him or laugh at him or care that he’s too anxious to do much more than grind against it and feel acutely embarrassed afterward. His mattress doesn’t care that he’s so deeply mired in denial that he's barely willing to jack off, let alone finger himself. And half the time he doesn't even want to jerk off because that tends to cause a chain reaction and he gets so uncomfortable when he starts getting wet. Sometimes he hears Mrs. Pugh in his head asking him about discharge... _down there_. His mattress doesn’t seem to mind that he can barely bring himself to acknowledge it when he starts leaking every time he gets turned on because his stupid hormones can’t take a chill pill already and stop ruining his life. And even then, all Link can do is turn beet-red and shamefacedly clean himself up, then do a load of laundry as soon as he has the house to himself. He’s adamant about never, ever letting his mom or stepdad handle his laundry these days.

Link is very thankful to have such a forgiving mattress.

It just seems extra unfair. He was having a tough time making it through puberty even _before_ he learned he was an omega and how he has to deal with the usual teenage horniness and inconvenient hard-ons _plus_ lubricating _plus_ the knowledge that the reason he's lubricating is because his body is telling him it would love to be impregnated someday. And that’s not even getting into the way everyone responds to his scent. It’s all given Link kind of a complex, because seriously, being an omega is supposed to be some kind of gift and yet...here he is. His body makes him cringe ninety percent of the time, and he has a freaking hope chest steadily filling with additional cringe-inducing things meant to ensure he eventually has a blissfully mated life, but he can't even figure out how to handle his own impending heat. It all just makes Link want to isolate himself from humanity forever. Or at least all of humanity except for Rhett.

Though he still hasn’t quite forgiven Rhett for suggesting they sneak onto his dad’s computer and try to find an omega chat room. That went about as well as Link expected, if not worse. It took them about fifteen minutes to log on, then they immediately got disconnected when Cole picked up the phone and it took even longer to reconnect. Once they finally found a chat room, Rhett was the one to type “anyone else about to have 1st heat??? need some advice here” while Link cringed beside him at the immediate barrage of responses, absolutely none of them helpful.

“Okay,” Rhett had admitted afterward, once Link managed to pry his face out of his hands. “That was a dumb idea.”

Since then, Link has stuck strictly with getting his information in print form. Even though he’s read enough to know it can’t happen, he still hopes deep down that his problems will somehow solve themselves. Maybe he’ll be some kind of omega anomaly who never actually has a heat. It would save him so much grief in the long run.

And it would be great if he could stop having nightmares about this. Waking up horny and anxious and shamefacedly humping his mattress is not one of Link’s favorite things, but it just seems to keep on happening. As much as he hates to admit it, there are some things he can’t confide in anyone about, not even Rhett. He’s not worried about Rhett being weirded out, since if he hasn’t been weirded out with him by now he presumably never will. But he can’t shake the conviction that Rhett would always be secretly judging him for being this awkward, defective waste of an omega.

“I’m gonna be the only omega in the history of the world no one wants to be with,” he groans to Rhett one evening when they’re hanging out in the McLaughlins’ den. “As soon as any alpha gets to know me instead of just how I smell, they’re gonna be so freaking disappointed.”

Rhett eyeballs him over the bag of Doritos he’s been diving into facefirst. “Trust me, brother, that’s not true.”

He sounds so certain of this Link can almost believe him.

Two days later, his first heat slams into him like a bus and he finds himself clinging to Rhett’s reassurance more than ever.

As far as heats go, it’s anticlimactic in every way except in terms of humiliation. Nothing in Link’s life ever falls short in that area. He tries to make it through the school day, even though he feels kind of achy and kind of raw-nerved at the same time. During statistics, he catches Rhett leaning in towards him, brows knitted.

“What’s up?” Link whispers across the aisle. “Did I step in something?”

Rhett’s intent expression doesn’t falter. “Dunno, man, but you definitely smell different.”

Once upon a time, those words would have made Link’s whole body thrum with excitement. Right now, all he wants is to forget he ever heard them.

“I got it under control,” he lies. There are just two hours left in the school day and then he’s home free. Surely he can hold himself together that long, how difficult can it possibly be?

Thirty minutes later, Link is shamefacedly trudging towards the front office with his underwear soaked through and his eyes never leaving the ground.

It's the most awful day of his life, but he learns his lesson: no more trying to fight it when he feels a heat coming. It's more painless to just acknowledge it and get through the whole thing quickly and privately.

He misses school for two full days and spends a lot of time painfully orgasming and practically crying from frustration. It’s the first time he’s ever been brave enough--or desperately horny enough--to try and work a finger into himself, but he only manages to use one and his face is on fire the whole time and altogether it’s so unsatisfying he’s forced to give up.  

A couple hours later, he tries to do it again, but it hurts so bad and he's so anxious that he's barely producing any slick and that's when he convinces himself all over again that he’s a defective omega. He can’t even get through a heat right, obviously this means he’s going to end up alone and exiled, an omega pariah who just can’t get his shit together. All he can do is rut against his faithful, nonjudgmental mattress and wail.

His mom refuses to let him drop out of school, but she does cook enough to feed an army and let him stay home an extra day.

When he does go back, no one says a word about why he’s been absent even though obviously the whole school _knows_ . Everyone is resolutely polite and acts like he never left, which to Link’s relief also includes Mrs. Pugh. He’s simultaneously grateful because he definitely doesn’t want to talk about it and devastated because he desperately _does_ want to talk about it. But even Rhett can barely look him in the eye and just tries to have forced, fake-sounding conversations about sports. That, more than anything, makes Link feel like he’s splintering apart inside. Even at his lowest moments, he’s had Rhett, and now for the first time it feels like maybe he doesn’t anymore.

He's never felt more alone in his life and he can't stand it. Over the weekend, his great-aunt Livvie pays a visit and drops off a couple of pies, which makes him feel a little better. Maybe he can invite Rhett over for pie and things will be normal again. Then great-aunt Livvie lays a festively wrapped box on the kitchen table and pecks him on the cheek. “For your hope chest, sweetie. You can open it by yourself later.”

Link’s hopes, dreams, and appetite vanish so completely it almost impresses him. Up until now, he hasn’t received any gifts accompanied by instructions to open them alone, but he’s pretty sure he knows what that implies.

And since this is his life now, he bites the bullet and does it after she’s gone.

Great-aunt Livvie, seventy-four years old, has sent him a very nice card congratulating him on his heat and wishing him all the best in finding a nice alpha when he's a little older. And a training knot.

Link has to swallow a hysterical giggle imagining how the hell he’s supposed to write a thank-you note for this.

Also, the thing might just be for training, but to Link it seems enormous and he's still sore just from forcing a finger into himself three days ago. Any alpha who gets saddled with him is bound to be disappointed. He can't even imagine actually using something like that on himself, not now, not ever. All he can do is grimace, throw it into his hope chest, then spend the rest of the evening with NWA playing at skull-pounding volume through his headphones.

It’s tearing him up that he just can’t make himself share any of his frustrations with Rhett. He and Rhett tell each other _everything_ , they always have. There’s never been anyone, alpha or otherwise, he’s trusted as much as Rhett. But aside from the clinical information they’ve learned from their library binges, he and Rhett  just don't have a lot of conversations about Link's omega plumbing, which is honestly for the best. There’s no doubt in Link’s mind Rhett would totally partake in that conversation, but he's too much of a gentleman to bring up the topic first.

And Link, for his part, has absolutely no intention of going there.

 

* * *

 

It's a big day for Rhett, the one where Link has to leave early because of his heat starting.

Even though he knows Link’s in pain and embarrassed beyond belief, Rhett selfishly cherishes the memory. It's the first time he's ever seen Link like this, just on the edge of a heat, and his head is swimming the rest of the day. He goes home and locks himself in his bedroom and tries really hard not to think about what Link is doing _right now._

In an intellectual sense, Rhett totally understands Link's struggles. He gets that there are crazy things happening to Link's body and he's not coping well with them and he's scared, but emotionally, Rhett just wants Link to understand how amazing he smells and how beautiful he is and how beautiful he _will_ be when he's pregnant. Which is such a primal, meathead alpha thought to have that he kind of wants to punch himself, but that doesn’t make him any less convinced of it. It doesn't make it easier to go home and lie in bed and try valiantly but ultimately pointlessly to not think about the sounds Link is probably making at that very moment.

And it certainly doesn't stop him from immediately breaking out into a sweat when, on the night of Link's third ever heat, he picks up the phone to a hoarse, "Hey bo, what's up?"

Rhett knows Link's heat can't possibly be over, it was only just detectable on him when they were leaving school earlier. His brain helpfully supplies the words _phonesexphonesexphonesex_ over and over while he swallows hard.

"Uh," is all he manages. He clears his throat and tries again. "Hi, uh, Link. Hey."

"Sorry, were you sleeping? I was just bored."

"Bored? Okay, so uh… it hasn't… hit you yet?" Rhett asks.

"No, it has, this is just a… lull." Link says, and Rhett swears he can hear sheets rustling.

" _Oh._ "

No amount of self control can stop the images that flood Rhett's traitorous brain at that moment. If Link is in the middle of his heat, that means he's _naked_. Probably hot to the touch, flushed all over, bedclothes a mess around him, covered in a sheen of sweat and… other things.

"Sorry, it's just, I don't really wanna talk to my mom right now. We can hang up if it's weird."

" _No!_ " Rhett says, realizing too late that he's put a little too much force behind the word. "I mean, no, it's okay. I'm here to entertain."

"Thanks, brother," Link says softly. "So did you start that calculus assignment yet?"

And with that, the mid-heat phone call tradition begins. Rhett actually starts to look forward to it, finding himself disappointed when heats hit during the daytime, when he has no excuse to take a sick day from school. He never asks Link any details and Link never supplies them, but the roughness of Link's voice and the mere knowledge of the state he's in are more than enough enough to dominate all of Rhett's guilty fantasies for the rest of the month.

Each call ends with a hitch of Link's breath, a barely suppressed whimper, and Link hastily saying, "Gotta go, talk to you tomorrow!" And if Rhett sometimes spits into his palm, and his hand sometimes finds his way into his boxers and wraps around his newly-formed knot, and his mind sometimes pretends the wetness had another source, well. No one needs to know about that.

He's been afraid to even mention his knot to Link, even though he's had it for nearly a year and was pretty darn excited the first time it popped. Not only does he feel bad that his own coming of age was so much less harrowing than having to endure heats, but Link never really wants to hear about those things.

It's not that Link doesn't like alphas -- Rhett _knows_ he likes alphas, they watch enough action flicks with rugged hunky alpha leading men for Rhett to be perfectly aware of how much Link likes alphas. Rhett is pretty sure Link just doesn't like _him_ that way. Which is understandable, since they're practically family. At least, that's how he chooses to mentally chastise himself after he knots his hand three minutes after hanging up the phone with Link on those monthly mid-heat chats.

Link just smells _so good_ lately, Rhett's hormones won't behave themselves. It gets to the point sometimes, usually when Link is on the cusp of heat, where Rhett doesn't even trust himself to stand anywhere near Link's personal space. As far as he knows, he's not going to pounce on Link and bite him or something, but his stupid alpha brain can be unpredictable at the best of times.

The last thing Rhett wants is for Link to start seeing him as just another idiotic caveman alpha who wants to club him over the head and drag him back to his cave (and those are Link's exact words, though he was saying them about Stuart Lowell after gym class).

But instead of habituating to Link's scent, Rhett's impulses are just getting harder to control. Part of him knows he's never going to do anything to hurt Link, not in a million years. But that doesn't stop fear from gripping him every time he finds himself inching too close to him, dipping his head to try and catch the scent that Link carries on his throat, wishing Link would tilt his head to give him access to the soft skin there.

It's getting to the point where Rhett can't even sit through a movie with Link without having to discreetly grab a pillow from Link's bed and hold it over his lap, willing himself to calm down. Sometimes Link gets a little turned on watching Harrison Ford running around with his shirt off, and Rhett's nose picks up on every little shift in his scent.

One fateful night, it becomes glaringly obvious to Rhett that the scent change he’s noticing when Link starts to squirm is more than just arousal, it's _slick_. It's the scent of Link getting wet, because that's what happens when omegas get turned on, because they're--

Rhett has to stop that train of thought in its tracks, springing up from Link's bedroom floor and bolting to the bathroom with barely enough time to mutter, "Gotta pee," before he's out of the room.

He's in there for a good ten minutes, trying to regulate his breathing, desperately wishing he'd worn looser pants, until Link knocks on the door.

"Dude, you okay? I paused the movie for you."

Rhett takes a deep, steadying breath, runs the water for a few seconds to keep up the pretense, and opens the door. "Too many Funyuns, I guess," he says in as casual a tone as he can muster, nudging past Link and walking back into his bedroom.

He has no memory of how the movie ends. For the rest of the night, he’s intensely focused on keeping the intrusive, filthy thoughts out of his head. Thoughts of sliding his hand up Link's thigh, of palming at his ass, of Link gasping sweetly into his mouth and whispering "You can put your fingers inside me if you want…"

But Rhett would never, ever try something like that with Link outside of his own head. The possibility never so much as crosses his mind, it's so far-fetched, so inappropriate. Link doesn't need an alpha, he needs a friend.

And Rhett is, above all, a good friend.

 

* * *

 

A week after his first heat, Link starts helping his mom with dinner.

It's not that he's ever had any interest in the culinary arts, and in fact his mother had banned him from the kitchen when he was twelve for catching instant mac and cheese on fire. But after it became clear that he was going to be the worst omega to ever walk the earth, he figured he had to start compensating.

Omegas are homemakers, they cook and clean and tend to the children. Link doesn't have any younger cousins, and he gets a little sick when he thinks about having kids of his own anyway, but the cooking and cleaning part he can work on. He might be terrified of his own biology and unable to get so much as a finger into his ass without crying with pain and humiliation, but dammit, he can cook his future alpha a nice pot roast and mashed potatoes, and maybe that'll make up for it.

His mom is delighted, the mac and cheese incident long forgotten. She confesses that she always hoped she would have an omega child so she could teach them to cook for their family, and she shares her grandmother's recipes for chocolate chip cookies and herb-infused roast chicken with a barely concealed quaver in her voice. Link tries to focus on how happy all of this is making her, how every new development in his omega-ness is like a gift to his doting mother. It helps, somewhat.

But none of it changes the fact that he'd much rather be going on fishing trips with Rhett and his dad, or off-roading on the McLaughlin's new ATVs, or learning to shoot pheasants with Rhett when Cole comes home for Thanksgiving with a new shotgun.

Link knows he's  _allowed_ to do all of those things, but he also knows that it's just not what omegas do. And if an omega did do those things, it wouldn't exactly be looked upon kindly by the community. He'd be one of those subversive omega-rights harpies, and if Link knows anything about Buies Creek, he knows it wouldn't appreciate that kind of rebellion. He doesn't think he'd worry so much about it if his body wasn't so broken, but as it is, he has to get _something_ right, right?

By the time he’s in the thick of college applications, Link can wield a wok and get a chicken from the coop to the pot and handle the finer points of keeping a house organized and a checkbook balanced. His mom is proud, his aunts and uncles are proud, and Link is bored.

His life has become nothing but a series of mundane activities punctuated by the horror and humiliation that is his heat. He grows his hair out long and wavy, because his mom told him it made him look softer. He shaves off the first hint of facial hair, because no one wants a scruffy omega. He even trades his oversized t-shirts for clothes that are a little tighter and a little more pressed, because that's how omegas dress, right? Gotta show off the goods.

His heats are still pure agony. He starts feeling the pit of dread in his stomach before he even consciously notices the fever, and the sympathetic glances from his teachers are almost too much to take. He runs home as soon as he starts feeling warm and locks himself in his bedroom with granola bars and bottles of water and just hopes against hope that his mom doesn't knock on his door to tell him when dinner is ready.

It's nearly twelve hours of torture, most months. Sleeping in fits and starts, barely remembering to keep hydrated. His sheets are damp and sticky and so are his thighs, and he burns with embarrassment when he so much as tries to slip a finger between his legs.

He's terrified of penetration, and it's awful, because his body craves it so badly he can taste it. The one time he actually got one finger up his ass, he froze like a statue and his body suddenly tried up like a freaking desert, making removing the finger even more painful than getting it in there.

So his heats are almost unbearable, half a miserable day of rolling around on his bed (and sometimes his floor, when his bed feels too gross), wanting and needing something inside him but being completely unable to satisfy the urge. Lackluster orgasms rutted out against his mattress barely scratch the surface.

The first time he calls Rhett in the middle of it, he says it's because he's bored, but really it's because he's spiraling. He can only lie there during the lulls in his fever and tell himself he's a terrible omega for so long before he snaps and needs a distraction. He's too restless to just sit and watch TV and his vision is swimming too much to read, so Rhett seems like the obvious answer.

Rhett, with his deep, calm voice and his ability to distract Link from all but the most dire of situations. Rhett, who Link isn't even sure is attracted to omegas, who doesn't seem to want to hear about Link's heat at all, but still lets him call, because he's the best guy.

It becomes their private little tradition. Link calls when his fever dips, Rhett talks at him about school and his latest crush and whatever video game he's working on, and eventually the fever spikes again and Link hangs up hastily, because even Rhett, his trusted confidante, shouldn't be subjected to anything more than a little break in Link's voice that signifies his body kicking into high gear again.

They start to spend more time than ever just on the phone, talking, even when Link isn't in heat. He's becoming a little antisocial, he knows, but the stares from every alpha in town are just too much for Link to take since his heats started. He knows everyone is watching him, and some nights he'd just rather stay in and avoid it.

On one such night, Link is starting to feel the very beginnings of a heat coming on. He's experienced enough of them now to know he's got at least a day before it really happens, but he's gotten good at detecting the slight uptick in his body temperature, the sensitivity to touch and smell that precedes the torture.

Rhett is telling him about the new snowboard his parents are getting him for a graduation gift when Link sighs.

"I'm gonna have to get that calculus test deferred," he says, almost to himself. He hates when his heats interfere with tests and assignments, mostly because his teachers are infuriatingly, condescendingly understanding about it.

"Aw, man," Rhett says with genuine sympathy. "You're sure it's coming before Friday?"

"I haven't been wrong yet."

Rhett, being the awesome bro that he is, launches into a full rambling description of every character in the new Mortal Kombat, knowing that Link needs a distraction right now more than anything else.

Link will never know what triggered it -- he's sure his impending heat is partly to blame, maybe the fact that it's late and he's delirious. Maybe Rhett's voice, soft but still deep and masculine, right in his ear. Sometimes Link wants to cry when he thinks about everything Rhett's done for him, everything he's put up with without a single complaint.

Right now, that thought is having… a different effect.

"Oh man, I'm falling asleep, I gotta go," Link says, interrupting Rhett's speech and feigning a yawn.

"Okay, think you'll be at school tomorrow?"

"Uh huh," Link says, already feeling his toes curl. "See ya."

He barely gets the phone back into the cradle before he's stripping off his sweats and his hand finds its way between his legs as though on autopilot.

The amount of slick he finds shocks him; he doesn't remember ever getting wet like this outside a heat. He barely has to take a breath before he presses a finger inside himself.

It's like a revelation. _This_ is what it's supposed to feel like. There's no pain, or if there is, it doesn't take anything away from the feeling. It's like his mind and his body are finally on the same page for the first time since he was fourteen and he got called out of class because someone noticed his scent changing.

He thinks it might be the first time he's even thought about sex without anxiety curling up in his stomach. And he doesn't have a fantasy, he doesn't need to think about anything at all. It takes a minute or less before he comes, but it's almost an afterthought, like it's just a byproduct of finally, finally having something inside him.

He almost pulls the covers up without even cleaning off his belly (almost -- no amount of satisfaction is worth sleeping with spunk on his stomach). And once he gives himself a quick wipedown, feeling easily the least embarrassed about the mess that he ever has in his life, he can’t help thinking for the zillionth time how weird his body is. After all the research he and Rhett did holed up in the library, all those embarrassing pamphlets from Mrs. Pugh, and the odd ill-advised foray online, Link considers himself kind of an authority on omega biology. He knows exactly what’s supposed to feel good and how he’s supposed to position himself and relax in order to get there, but it’s just never happened for him in spite of everything.

And then Rhett murmurs a few words to him and suddenly Link’s being hit with Mack truck of sexuality.

All these months he’s been suffering through heats and hoping with all his heart that his anatomy will finally sync up with his mind, but all it took for that to finally happen was Rhett rambling about Mortal Kombat. Maybe Link needs to hole up with the game every month and see if it makes his heats any easier; it seems about as feasible as anything else.

The alternative, which he can barely bring himself to consider, is that he’s gotten his wires so crossed that just the sound of Rhett comforting him is a little _too_ comforting and now his stupid, stupid hormones are mistaking nice supportive friendship for something very different. What does it even say about him, that it’s totally possible that just hearing his best friend’s voice gets him wet? Like he needed another thing to throw on the “things not to tell Rhett” pile.

So there it is. It’s totally possible that, somewhere over the past few years, Rhett’s twined himself so ornately through Link’s awful pubescent existence that Link has no clue how to begin untangling things.

And, if he’s brutally honest with himself, maybe he doesn’t even want to try. He can’t imagine who he’d be without Rhett easing him through this and helping it all feel just a little bit more bearable.

That's what's been carrying Link all this time, no matter how hard his life tries to direct him into every pothole of awkwardness it can.

Rhett always makes things better.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated again! This chapter turned out quite a bit longer than we expected, but it also covers significantly more time than any other chapter probably will. Please be aware that the discussion they have about Link's post-graduation decision will most definitely come to fruition beginning with the next update (just a heads up if that's not your cup of tea). For more details, please see the end notes.

There was never any question of them going to college together.

The where, how, and why of the matter are all secondary; as long as they're together, everything else will work out fine.

Rhett doesn't have the knock-down, drag-out fight with his dad that he was expecting, but he does make it very clear he won't be going anywhere solely based on the strength of their basketball team. "I thought you wanted me to dedicate myself to something I could make a living off of," he protests, when his dad blanches and somehow manages to look down his nose at him even though Rhett is almost a foot taller. "What are the chances I'd be able to make it as a pro ball player even if I wanted to? And I _don't_."

He does compromise on the engineering degree, though. His dad isn't wrong on that front, it's a good marketable profession and Rhett has no reason to think he won't be good at it.

If he's honest with himself, he's a little jealous of how supportive Link's family is. No matter what Link does, an educated omega is a particularly priceless gem, and there's Rhett back to objectifying his best friend just like the rest of the world. Link, unlike Rhett, has never made any secret of how badly he wants to study film production and editing, and his mom has never tried to talk him out of it.

“NC State’s got filmmaking classes,” Link tells him, completely unfazed, when Rhett relays the outcome of the latest father-son debate about his future. “So we’ll take some of those and get engineering degrees at the same time, no big deal.”

The way Link says _we,_ like there was never any question of him hopping on the engineering track right alongside him, makes Rhett want to throw his arms around him and never let go.

So of course, he tackles Link to the living room floor and plays dead for a good five minutes.

Link bites him on the arm trying to wriggle himself free, but Rhett’s pretty sure he can see him grinning.

 

* * *

 

NC State might offer enough options to keep everyone happy on the academic front, but in other areas it's a little lacking, at least in Link's opinion.

Once he and Rhett are accepted, they celebrate with a bottle of wine pilfered from the Neals' pantry and start on the next round of paperwork as soon as they're sober. On the intake form, they list each other as their preferred roommates and cross their fingers that the college will make an exception for them even though alphas and omegas typically aren't permitted to room together.

Link has never played so much phone tag in his life.

“I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t want to be placed in a single. Yes, I know what the policy--okay, is there _any_ possible way for me to live with my best friend?”

He’s got the registrar’s office on speed dial and knows every secretary by name, but it doesn’t matter. The on-campus housing regulations might as well be carved onto the back of the Ten Commandments.

Looking into off-campus housing is Rhett’s idea, by way of Cole. “He says if we get a third roommate or have jobs, rent shouldn’t be much more than staying in the dorms. Lots of people do it at UNC.”

The idea of having a third person around during his heats stresses Link out more than he can express. “I…” he starts, willing Rhett to pluck the words out of his mind. “I dunno, that…”

“If we get a two bedroom apartment, you’d have your own space to...y’know,” Rhett says, blushing to the roots of his hair like maybe, just maybe, he’s willing Link to pluck a few words out of his mind too.

“Yeah,” Link blurts out. “Yeah, totally. Let’s look into that. I mean, if you’re sure you won’t get sick of me.” He gives Rhett his most innocent face. “There’s still time to change your mind, buddy.”  

Rhett snorts. “Yeah, right. You’re gonna meet some hot alpha before the first semester ends and forget all about me.”

“Oh, no you did _not_ ,” Link practically squeaks. “I’m not going to school because I’m alpha-hunting, don’t even freaking joke about that.” Rhett’s stupid cheeks are ruining his poker face completely, but Link punches him on the shoulder anyway. He went on a tirade the other day about how he has no interest whatsoever in fulfilling everyone's expectations of being a sweet little omega; he's not going to get swept into a relationship just because he happens to be an omega and that's what he's _supposed_ to do.

“There’s gonna be more omegas there,” Rhett tells him then, suddenly serious. “You ready for that?”

They haven’t actually discussed this either, but Rhett’s definitely seen the campus Omega Alliance pamphlets littering Link’s desk. As pamphlets go, they’re several steps above and beyond anything he ever got from Mrs. Pugh. For the first time in his life, he’s gotten an idea of what it might be like for omegas to have their own little space, their own sense of community. After four years of only encountering other omegas in passing, like that time he picked up the scent of one during a family trip to Florida and walked into a parked car, the idea of actually making friends with one is almost too fantastical for him to process.

“As long as our cycles don’t all sync up, yeah.” There’s a big, stupid smile spreading over Link’s face and he doesn’t even try to stop it.

This is actually going to happen, he’s going to get an apartment with his best friend and meet other omegas and in four years they’ll have engineering degrees and take over the world.

“I’m ready for anything.”

 

* * *

 

In the end, the apartment they find is a little farther off campus and a little smaller than they were hoping for, but it’s also a little cheaper and ultimately that’s why they settle on it. With enough careful budgeting, they won’t need to rope in a third roommate, and Rhett can tell Link is relieved about that.

It does have two bedrooms, each approximately the size of a breadbox. Rhett doesn’t see how closing the door is going to do anything to block off the scents and sounds of Link’s heats, but he doesn’t mention this. They’ll just have to deal with that as it happens.

They’ve been in close proximity to each other since first grade,  but actually living together is a new step. Maybe being in such close quarters and seeing Link all the time will throw some cold water on his crush.

Rhett doesn’t think he’s being unreasonably optimistic here.

There’s a guy next door who seems pretty chill, a beta named Gregg who invites himself over for so many Nintendo marathons it starts to feel like he lives with them too. Totally unsolicited, he brings over a six-pack to share and tells Rhett he can crash with him during Link's heats if things get too weird.

Rhett doesn’t know it, but this offer is going to be a godsend.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t go away.

Instead of building up a Link-immunity by living with him, it just compounds everything

Rhett has fantasies about everything from knotting Link hard and dirty right there on the living room futon to laying Link down and making love to him for the first time on their wedding night so they can _really_ be mated. Link, who’s made friends with other omegas for the first time in his life and spends his days practically incandescent with happiness. Rhett can never breathe a word of this to him.

Link's mom finds them a church close to their apartment with their old pastor's seal of approval, and neither of them even think about not going. It's just like at home, except now they sit together. Rhett alternates between trying to convince himself that he's not going to be struck by lightning right there in the pew, and giving steely glares to the curious worshipers who crane their necks to look at Link like he's some kind of exhibit at the zoo. At least back at home, everyone knew everyone else and Link was just another member of the congregation.

Rhett knows Link can look out for himself, but the alpha in him is determined to make his bro’s life as stress-free as possible, even though Link’s existence itself has Rhett stressing out constantly for several different reasons. No one gets to objectify his best friend except _him_ , and he’s trying his hardest to overcome that. It’s bad enough he has a thing for betas _and_ other alphas, having a thing for his omega best friend on top of all that is just overkill.

Then there are the heats.

Link's heats are an agony all their own for Rhett.

He can hear everything, smell everything, and just walking past Link's door makes him dizzy with lust. It takes every ounce of his willpower not to go in there and press Link into the bed and rut into him. He jerks off for hours, biting his pillow and straining his ears in case Link calls for Rhett to please come in and give him a hand--which he never does, of course.

When he can gather his wits, he tries to be as helpful as possible. He leaves Big Macs and Gatorade and wet wipes outside Link's door for whenever he has a moment to grab them, then flees across the hall to Gregg's apartment, where Gregg helpfully turns up the television to nearly unbearable volumes and hands Rhett beer after beer with a sympathetic look on his face. Rhett suspects Gregg knows more than he's admitting, but he's happy to let it go unspoken between them. He's never voiced his feelings for Link to another soul, and it'd take a lot more beer than either of them can afford to convince him to break that silence.

Church starts getting tougher somehow, and it feels so much more complicated than it did at home. Back in Buies Creek, he went with his family and he could ignore the parts that made him squirm uncomfortably in his seat, because he was there with his parents and it was just what they did -- what everyone did -- on Sunday morning.

It feels almost dissonant now that he has a choice in the matter, even though he's never actually considered any alternatives. He willingly gets up early on Sunday to go sit in a hall where a man who doesn't even know him tells the room, in so many words, that people like Rhett are broken, that they've turned their backs on the faith, that they're _dirty_ , and that they need to pray themselves clean.

Rhett's never felt like he was a mistake, he's never felt like he needed to pray for anything more than compassion and clarity. He's sure that God loves him, as sure as he is of anything in his life, but hearing such a strong argument to the contrary takes its toll anyway.

Their walks home from church start getting a lot more subdued.

The loss of Rhett's virginity comes without much fanfare -- or it would have, were it not for the fact that it happened with a male alpha from his Calculus II class. Derivatives get him hot, apparently. And the guy is nice and it's a nice night, and for all Rhett had built his sexuality up in his head, it's really not that big a deal once he gets a taste for it, so to speak.

Before he knows it, he's not relying on Gregg so much for safe haven from Link's heats. Rhett's always liked dating, and adding sex to the equation just makes it that much more fun. It turns out that it's not difficult to pull as long as you're a giant alpha with a decent grasp on the English language and access to a shower. He even sleeps with an omega once, but he ends up just feeling guilty because halfway through he realizes he's just comparing her scent to Link's. And that’s the kicker: sleeping around gives Rhett a chance to get some of his frustrations out, but his heart always comes back to Link. 

It becomes a routine; Link starts getting feverish and retreats to his bedroom, and Rhett heads out to his latest fling's apartment. Link gets all the space he needs and Rhett gets a nice, fun distraction from whatever Link is getting up to with those toys he took from his hope chest when they moved.

Most of the time, it works.

He actually kind of envies Link sometimes; being an omega means he’s free to hook up with alphas and betas of either sex without being judged for it. But Link stays impressively pure, all things considered. He mostly dated betas in high school, since he was so self-conscious about how his scent impacted alphas, but in college he seems to get a better handle on his preferences. Rhett never feels more like a dumb caveman than when he catches a trace of some other alpha’s scent on Link, and he hates himself for it.

Pulling his patented I'm-dead move so he can rub his scent all over Link before he goes out, on the other hand, that he has no regrets about whatsoever.

Even though it makes him tense and irritable knowing Link’s preferences seem to run towards alphas that aren’t him, Rhett can't _not_ listen to the details every time Link comes home all flushed and flustered with a big grin on his face. It’s not that he’s jealous, Rhett tries to convince himself a million times, it’s just that he wants to make sure no pushy alpha is trying to pressure Link into anything.

And every time, Link's stories are almost innocent compared to the debauched things Rhett gets up to. They range from things like "She let me take her bra off but we just kissed mostly," which Rhett can handle hearing even though he's a little jealous, to "I let him kiss my chest for a while but then he started talking about how sexy it'd look when I was full of milk and it got weird," which just makes Rhett want to hunt down the guy and throw him into a tree a few times.

As much as he relishes hearing details about Link’s relationships, they also make Rhett’s hackles raise like nothing else. He can’t help comparing every one of Link’s giggle-punctuated anecdotes to how much better Rhett would treat him if he were in that alpha’s place. Rhett would be so careful and respectful if he ever got to kiss Link, he’d treat him right and take things nice and slow. He can't believe how forward some alphas are and he _hates_ seeing people treat Link like a novelty. And since he doesn't want to come off as patronizing, he never says so, but he's really proud of Link for sticking to his guns and not giving it up for some smooth-talking omega fetishist.

Rhett tries really, really hard not to include himself in that category.

 

* * *

 

Link remains a model omega, as much as he hates thinking of himself as such. He doesn’t date until the beginning of sophomore year, and even then, it's pretty chaste, and he always cuts them loose after three or four dates. Any relationship lasting longer than a few weeks would inevitably run into a heat, and he has no interest in spending that with anyone but his trusty, non-judgmental vibrators. It took him over a year to get comfortable with having heats alone; he's not about to let some stranger in on the process. He knew by about tenth grade that he really wasn't interested in anyone but alphas, but it's a big step between liking them and trusting them to see him at his most vulnerable.

Rhett comes home one morning while Link is chugging blue Gatorade in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a threadbare t-shirt and his underwear. Even after his heat breaks, clothes feel awful against his skin for a few hours.

"Oh," Rhett stammers, freezing with his hand on the doorknob.

"Don't worry, it's over," Link says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and motioning for Rhett to come in. "Just kind of an intense one, forgot to hydrate in the middle of things."

Rhett steps in and shuts the door. "You sure? I can go take Cassidy out for breakfast or something if you need some privacy."

Link barks out a laugh that turns into a belch. He definitely drank that bottle too fast. "Cassidy? What happened to Sarah?"

Rhett shrugs, "Dunno, haven't heard from her in a few weeks."

Link takes another Gatorade from the fridge and wanders over to the couch, throwing himself onto it bodily. "You know, you're getting kind of a reputation," he says, cracking open the bottle and giving Rhett a sly look as he takes a drink.

"Oh yeah? For what?" Rhett lifts Link's legs off the couch and lets them fall onto his lap as he sits down, idly rubbing his feet. Link is always so touch-deprived after he spends his heats alone, he's grateful that Rhett seems to have picked up on it. It's nice having an alpha around who he trusts enough to cuddle into when his body is begging for contact.

"For being a knot-it-all, dude," Link says, flicking his foot against Rhett's stomach in a halfhearted attempt at a kick.

Rhett snorts, "Did you hear that from someone's grandmother? Because that's the last person to ever use the term 'knot-it-all'."

"You know what I mean, you're a total player!"

"I can't help it if the ladies can't get enough of me." Rhett grins.

Link laughs, then tilts his head a little, fixing Rhett with a stare. "It's not just girls though, is it? And not just betas?"

Rhett shrugs, concentrating on pressing his thumbs into Link's arches. "Not always."

They stay quiet for a minute, Rhett pressing his thumbs into the arches of Link's feet, concentrating on it like it's his job.

"Rhett?" Link says finally, pulling his legs out of Rhett's lap and sitting up to face him.

"Yeah, Link?"

Link takes a deep breath. "I don't think I wanna go to church anymore."

It always impresses him when Rhett’s eyes manage to take up even more of his face than they already do. “Oh. Dang.”

This probably isn’t the post-heat conversation Rhett was expecting, which is fair enough. Link winces, waits for the other shoe to drop. “Yeah.”

But Rhett just presses his lips together and nods, slow and pensive. “You been thinkin’ this for a while?”

And this is why they’re best friends. Plenty of people would be quick to brush Link off or lay a patronizing “are you _sure?”_ on him, but Rhett _knows_ him. “Uh-huh,” Link admits. “I just...I dunno, man, some of the stuff just bugs me.”

It sounds so childish when he says it out loud. Their church isn’t one of those scary, fire-and-brimstone ones and Link’s felt pretty welcome there ever since they started going. Mostly.

“Yeah?” Rhett says, sounding blessedly neutral. “Like what, man,?”

Link heaves in a breath. Even in the youth organization, which is supposed to be where everyone’s treated like a peer, there are so many small moments that have bounced off his consciousness like cherry bombs, but he just can’t seem to articulate anything specific. “Like...condescending stuff? Sometimes? I feel like all I’m expected to do is get married and be a househusband, y’know? No one’s ever asked me about my major or what I’m gonna do after graduation. I didn’t notice until I realized people talked to _you_ about that stuff all the time.”

There’s a long, heavy silence.

“Yeah,” Rhett murmurs finally, “I noticed that too.”

Link gapes. “Say what?”

Rhett cuts a glance at him. “There’s some stuff that’s been bugging me too.”

And that has Link’s post-heat lassitude shattering apart like glass. “Dude, have people been giving you shit about the whole gay thing?”

“It’s not a _gay thing_ ,” Rhett says in a dramatically long-suffering tone. “I’ve just been thinking there’s some stuff people at church believe about people like me that...is kind of shitty. But no one’s given _me_ any shit.”

Link is torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to punch out their pastor. “I get that, man. It’s kinda the same? They don’t treat _me_ like I’m two or anything, but I feel like they don’t think omegas are supposed to do much. I mean, maybe I do want to settle down with a nice wholesome alpha and have kids eventually, but that’s not _just_ what I want.”

Now Rhett just looks amused. “Hold up, you want to have kids? Since when?”

“Not _now,_ dumbass.” Link rolls his eyes. “That’s the thing, though. I feel like everyone else expects me to get married and start squeezing ’em out as soon as I graduate. Like that’s gotta be what I want.”

“If you don’t wanna go, I won’t go either,” says Rhett, suddenly serious again. 

"I don't want you to feel like you have to stop for me, though."

Rhett shrugs. "I mean, I wouldn't want to be a part of a church that made you uncomfortable, so it's gonna be partly for you, but it's a lot of other stuff, too."

"Okay," Link says slowly, "So… how would you feel about just doing our own thing on Sundays? Just here, me and you, like a sort of Bible study? I don't really like the idea of losing touch with… all of it, you know?"

"Definitely." Rhett grins, snatching the Gatorade from Link's hand and taking a swig to a chorus of squawking protests. "If they can make the Bible say what they want it to, why can't we?"

"First new rule," Link takes the bottle back, "No stealing vital electrolytes from the dehydrated omega."

 

* * *

 

Senior year turns out to be just as stressful as everyone warned them it would be. Link spends nearly all his free time at the library, and none of their classes overlap anymore, so it's getting to the point where they have to schedule time together even though they _live_ together.

They manage to get a free night not long after one of Link's heats. It's always a bit of a test for Rhett to spend a lot of time with Link when that scent is still lingering in the apartment, but he's willing to steel his nerves if it means getting in some quality Link time before he hunkers himself down in the library for midterms.

They order pizza and gather together a few mismatched beers from the ends of various six-packs, and the discussion quickly turns towards the future, as it so often does when you're a senior in college and you're supposed to have your life together.

"So, I was thinking about California," Link says, before shoving half a piece of pizza into his mouth. Rhett's always been impressed at that ability.

"Big state, west coast, lots of oranges?" Rhett grins, taking a swig of his beer.

Link nods, "That's the one," he says, muffled through a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni.

"Thinkin' any deeper thoughts than that about it?"

Link fidgets and takes a long drink from his beer, and if Rhett didn't know any better, he'd think Link was stalling.

"Yeah, uh… thinking about moving there, actually." He doesn't meet Rhett's eyes when he says it, but there's still a hint of a smile on his face.

"Okay," Rhett says slowly, "Like, for real moving there, not like how we were also gonna move to Spain and open a surf shop and eat nothing but churros until we're too fat for our surfboards to support our weight?"

"I mean, neither of us can surf, so yeah, definitely more for real than the Spain thing."

"Right," Rhett nods, his brain already running through all the plans he'll have to make, how he'd go about applying for jobs without being able to interview in person, how high rent will be in the Los Angeles area. "That's… that's really fucking cool, man."

They've talked about it in a sort of nebulous way ever since their freshman year; it's a cliche, the boys from the redneck town wanting to escape to the liberal west coast, but it's a cliche for a reason. Rhett’s done his research. In California, they have Pride parades attended by more than fifty people. They have workplace discrimination laws, not to mention a whole host of omega rights that don't exist in the south. It just seems like the dream place for them to live.

"Yeah, it really is," Link says, and Rhett gets the feeling that that's not the only news he's planning on sharing tonight. "I mean, it's a pro-choice state, even for omegas, and there are great paternity leave regulations, and the job market is blowing up. It feels like it makes sense, you know?"

" _Totally_ ," Rhett reaches out and gives Link's leg a supportive squeeze, because the scent of anxiety coming off him is nearly overpowering the scent of his recently-departed heat.

"And it's really right for me right now, because…" Link fidgets with his beer, slowly peeling the label off the bottle. "Because they have really good legal protection for…for omega breeders."

Rhett freezes with a slice of pizza inches from his mouth, which suddenly feels like it's full of cotton balls. 

"Breeders," he says weakly, carefully setting the slice back into the box. "Like… like breeders? Like the omegas that have sex with alphas and carry their babies for them?" 

"Yeah. That kind of breeder." Link says carefully, and now it's Rhett who can't look up from his beer.

"So you're--"

"Before you say anything, I just want you to know that I've thought about it a lot, okay? Like, a _lot_ , I mean I've kind of been thinking about it since sophomore year. You know Andi, in the Omega Alliance, you met her at that mixer last year? Her parents used a breeder to have her because they couldn't conceive, and she knows all about it and she told me about how it works and how there are contracts and everything is legal and totally safe and above board, and you have to go through all kinds of physicals and stuff before you can sign a contract so I won't do it unless a doctor tells me I'm in perfect physical condition for pregnancy, and I just think this makes a lot of sense for me right now because I love the idea of helping families who want babies and I'm so far away from having my own but having someone else's would be nice, and I'd try to get actual engineering gigs on contract between pregnancies, and breeding pays really well so I'd be able to support myself on that alone, and I'm going to stop rambling now so you can process."

Process. Right. That's what Rhett's supposed to be doing, processing. That's going to be difficult to do when this screaming white noise is occupying all the space in his brain right now.

He doesn't know how long he sits in silence, staring at the coffee table, but it's long enough that Link nudges him with his knee and cranes his neck to try to catch Rhett's eye.

"You're allowed to talk, bo," Link says, smiling softly.

"You're a virgin," Rhett says, because it's the first thing that comes to his mind and apparently his brain-to-mouth filter has quit citing unsafe work conditions.

"Uh," Link says, setting his beer on the coffee table, "That doesn't really have anything to do--"

"You're telling me you're going to have _sex_ for the _first time_ with some strange alpha who's trying to knock you up?"

"Not exactly my choice of language, but yeah, I guess I am." Link's tone is getting terse, and Rhett can hear it, and his common sense is screaming at him to just shut up and try not to make this situation any worse, but there's a much louder voice in his head right now, the alpha voice who never gets to weigh in on these issues, telling him this is wrong, this isn't how it was supposed to go, Link can't carry someone else's baby, _it's supposed to be Rhett's_.

"What happened to wanting it to be special? What about the way alphas treat you, how are you going to just sleep with some random alpha who's just going to see you as a piece of meat? Just a-- just a carrier for a baby for nine months and then nothing?"

It's a long time before Link speaks, and when he does, his tone is completely lacking in affect. "It's a legal contract. It's a legitimate profession."

Rhett stands from the couch so he can pace in front of the coffee table, wishing their living room was bigger so he'd have farther to go. "Yeah, and what about when you sign a contract with someone who doesn't have such good intentions? Some heat-seeker who just wants to fuck a young virgin omega, some asshole who's just going to hurt you? Have you thought about that?"

Link stands up suddenly, and the glare he levels Rhett with makes him feel about three feet tall. "Well I guess I'll have plenty of experience dealing with asshole alphas, right?"

"Link--" Rhett starts, but Link turns on his heel and strides toward his bedroom.

"Thanks for your support," he throws over his shoulder. "I'm going to bed."

Rhett swears he can feel the floor shake when Link slams his door.

 

* * *

 

The next morning is pure anguish. Link has already gone to class when Rhett wakes up, which means Rhett gets to spend several torturous hours wishing they hadn't done the dishes yesterday so he'd have something to do with his hands.

They've never had a fight before. Not a real one, anyway. Once in fourth grade Link got jealous when Rhett had Colin Peters over for a sleepover and gave him the silent treatment for three days, but that's pretty much it. Rhett doesn't even think he's ever seen Link genuinely angry before, and he hates that he was the one to cause it.

He's been schooling his emotions around Link for nearly a decade. It's been easier lately, now that he's dating, focusing all those romantic and sexual urges elsewhere. He thought he had it all under control.

The alpha inside him is never going to stop wanting Link.

But what really kills him is that Link doesn't know all that; Link doesn't know that Rhett's outburst was fueled by old, misguided romantic feelings. From Link's perspective, Rhett is now just as bad as every other overbearing, overprotective, paternalistic alpha in his life. Rhett can't stand the thought of Link seeing him that way.

"Hey."

Link's voice cuts through Rhett's internal self-deprecation party, and Rhett looks up to see him standing in the doorway, holding his physics book and looking apprehensive.

"Link," Rhett breathes, so happy just to see him that he has to exercise Herculean effort to stop himself from crossing the room and wrapping Link into a massive hug. Even dense as he is, he knows it's not the time.

"We need to talk, huh?" Link says, dropping his books on the coffee table and perching on the arm of the couch. Rhett's not sure if he's making a conscious effort not to get too close, but it sure feels like he is.

"I, uh--" Rhett clears his throat, "I don't think I have a right to say anything at the moment."

Link nods. "True. I need to talk, then." He takes a slow breath in, like he's steadying himself.

"I need you to understand that I'm capable of making my own decisions. That I understand the gravity of this choice I'm making and I've researched it as much as humanly possible and when I say it's what I want to do, I am _sure_."

Rhett nods vigorously, "I totally get that, bo, I'm--"

"I also," Link continues, giving Rhett a pointed look, "need you to accept that your opinion on this matter isn't going to sway my decision one way or another. I know you're used to being a pretty big influence in my life, but this is something I want to do. This is _my_ thing."

Rhett keeps his mouth shut, waiting to hear the worst, that Link doesn't want him to come to California, that he's moving out immediately, that they're not friends anymore because Rhett is such a stupid alpha meathead.

Link folds his hands in his lap carefully. "I also wanted to say that I overreacted," he glances up at Rhett, "a _little._ "

"No you didn't," Rhett says softly, sliding a little closer to Link's end of the couch, "You didn't. It's on me."

"Yeah, it is, but I still shouldn't have run off like that," Link says, sliding down onto the cushions so their legs are almost touching. "I know I get a little… dramatic when someone tries to tell me what to do. But it's nice to have someone who loves me enough to act that stupid, you know?"

Rhett lets out a breath that he feels like he's been holding for hours. "So, so stupid. I'm so sorry, bo. I got freaked. I know you can handle yourself."

"Yeah, I can," Link agrees, "But… it'd be nice to have someone willing to get stupid on my behalf in California."

Rhett feels the cheek-busting smile spreading across his face and he's powerless to stop it. He closes the gap between them and slings his arm around Link's shoulders, pulling him in against his chest. "Then call me your California idiot."

Link cranes his neck up to look at Rhett, eyes sparkling. "Really? You wanna come?"

"Who else is going to make midnight cereal runs for you when the pregnancy cravings hit?"

Without warning, Link turns in his arms and pounces, pinning him down on the couch in a full-body hug.

"I couldn't even imagine doing it without you," he says, muffled into Rhett's shoulder.

"You're never gonna have to," Rhett promises.

He's never been so sure of anything in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link decides to enter the world of contract breeding, which essentially means being a surrogate for alphas. For reasons that have to do with hormones and biology and our own authorial handwaving, alpha couples have particularly low fertility rates and surrogacy is vastly more effective if impregnation occurs during an omega's heat. The most successful way of inducing pregnancy is for an alpha to knot an omega, while artificial insemination is a very unreliable way to induce pregnancy, even in an omega, because sexual contact is required for pregnancy to take. 
> 
> There have been clinical trials where omegas in heat were artificially inseminated but they're very hit or miss. If that were a more viable alternative, chances are Link would be going that route instead. Some omegas choose to explore contract breeding as a means of being sexually active without feeling the pressure to settle down, and there are elements of that impacting Link's decision too. He already knows he wants to experience sex with alphas, but not anything that's going to result in attachment or slut-shaming (the last thing he wants is to be known as some easy-access omega all the alphas want a crack at, which is unfortunately a very real possibility), and recently he's been really curious about being pregnant but knows he's not anywhere near ready to have his own kids yet.
> 
> Also, ALL THE PINING.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now a 12-chapter fic, since we don't know how to do brevity. Oops.

Link almost swallows his tongue when his mom asks why he’s getting mail from fertility agencies in L.A.

He stares fixedly at the toaster, willing his Pop-Tarts to spring up so he can cram them both into his mouth and escape this conversation he’s been steadfastly avoiding ever since graduation. “Uh, would you believe me if I said they’re not mine?”

“Sure, sweetie.” Link can feel her sidelong gaze boring into him without even turning his head. “Must be one of those other Charles Lincoln Neal III fellows out there.”

Link folds like a cheap table. “I’m fixing to have some phone interviews to see about getting contract work that fits with my schedule. I’m trying to line one up with IBM, but I just haven’t heard back yet. Oh, and me and Rhett really want to move to California, so that’s why I’m getting mail from there.”

His Pop-Tarts emerge with tinny fanfare, making him jump. His mom doesn’t so much as blink.

“I’m gonna need you to walk me through what you just said. Real slow.”

Meekly, Link slinks to the kitchen table and slumps onto a stool beside her without tearing his gaze from the formica.

“Let’s start with the part about California. Then we can talk about the interviews and the mail.”

Link takes a deep breath and looks up.

Over the past few years, Link’s gotten really good at managing his own heats. He still doesn’t particularly enjoy them, but they don’t make him want to tear himself apart and he’s never felt the need to sleep around in order to take the edge off. He's proud of himself for becoming so much more comfortable with his own body. And for the longest time, the idea of bringing in someone else and having to help _them_ get comfortable with it just makes him break out in a cold sweat. Now, though, he’s seriously intrigued by the possibility. And the prospects beckoning from across the country, just waiting to be explored, those intrigue him too, even though the idea of moving to the west coast with his best friend makes Link's heart leap around in his chest.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to find the words to express all this and somehow stumble through them coherently enough for his mom to understand.

“So my first grandkids won’t even be my actual grandkids, is that what I’m hearing?”  There’s a hurt look in her eyes that makes Link want to punch himself until he’s unconscious. “And you want it to be that way?”

“ _Mom.”_ There’s no disguising the way his voice cracks, but Link barely notices. “I’m not sayin’ that.”

“Then maybe you ought to explain all this even slower,” she responds, and there’s a catch in her voice too.

Link is absolutely not going to cry. His vision is a little blurry and he’s clutching his mom’s hand like a lifeline, but he’s got this. He can keep it together.  “I’m still gonna use my degree. There’s plenty of firms that let you work on a contracted basis instead of full time. So I’d be able to, y’know, stay sharp and stuff while I’m...working for a fertility agency at the same time. And LA’s got the best benefits in the country for that kind of thing.”

There’s a long, molasses-slow stretch of silence that Link is vaguely aware could be described as a pregnant pause. He has to bite down on a hysterical giggle. “You could do something like that around here,” his mom says at last. “Instead of going all the way out there by yourself.”

Link’s hand tightens around hers involuntarily. “I couldn’t. I’ve been researching this since last year, mom. There’s nothing like it in North Carolina. There’s nowhere that treats omegas near as good as California. And I wouldn’t be by myself. I’d be with Rhett.”

“I just think this is something you need to really think about before you rush into--”

“I _did.”_

It’s a dick move to cut her off after making her all plaintive and emotional, but Link can’t help it.

He’s always on the defensive about people assuming he can't make decisions for himself because he's an omega or whatever other misconception is coloring their perspective. Before he ever mentioned maybe wanting to look into breeding as a post-college prospect, even to Rhett, he’d researched it as much as he could so he’d be bristling with facts in defense of his decision. This isn't just a whim, it's something he actually thinks could be a good fit for him. Part of why he couldn’t bring himself to tell his mom any sooner was because of how strongly Rhett’s reaction had been. If _Rhett_ could barely handle hearing it, then that didn’t bode well for how it would go over with his family.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he says, a lot more softly than before. “I can help people in a way not just anyone can do, you know? And I think it’s something I’d be good at. And if it’s not, then I quit and I get an engineering job full time.”

He actually impresses himself with how collected he sounds. In reality, Link's not even sure if this is going to work. Well, he's sure Rhett will find something right away once they move out there, Rhett's amazing, but what if no one wants Link to have their kid? He’s also been assuming he and Rhett would live together, but maybe Rhett won't want to live with him if he's getting pregnant on a regular basis.

He must be exuding a lot more confidence than he feels because suddenly his mom is leaning in and folding him up in a hug so tight it makes his head swim. Maybe he’s also tearing up a little. Maybe. “You’d better be calling me every single day,” his mom tells him in a tight little whisper.

"I'll put you down as my emergency contact," Link promises. “Well. You and Rhett, ‘cause it’d probably be easier for him to get to me than you, just on a geographical level.”

That actually makes his mom laugh. “Fair enough. And sweetie, I love you and I’ll stand behind you one hundred percent no matter what you want to do or be. _But_ I’m not explaining this to anyone else. You’re on your own there.”

“Not a problem,” Link declares. “I love you too, mom.”

He’s eating his words within two hours.

They meet for dinner with his grandparents, and of course the conversation turns to what Link plans to do with himself now that he’s out of school. So, on a significant glance from his mother, Link sends up a silent prayer and tells them.

His grandfather proceeds to furrow his brow at him for a good five minutes before finally asking, "You havin' other people’s babies, boy? How much they gonna be payin' you for that?"

It’s possible he’s bitten off more than he can chew here.

 

* * *

 

Rhett is adamant about living together. Link warns him that for all they know he’ll be a walking disaster once he gets pregnant, but Rhett wouldn't have it any other way.

“Like you’re not a walking disaster now?” he says, grinning when Link scrunches up his face.

They’re at a rest stop in Russellville, edging their way out of Arkansas and into Oklahoma. It’s Link’s turn to pay for gas, Rhett’s turn to pay for snacks, and they’ve both taken turns using the ramshackle phone booth to call home and check in. The back of Link’s truck is crammed with all their worldly possessions worth schlepping across the country and the front of it is a mess of discarded CDs, snack wrappers, and misfolded maps. The two Christmas tree air fresheners dangling from the rearview mirror don’t even come close to overpowering the smell of powdered cheese. Rhett wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m freaking serious, man, you need to know what you’re getting into before we sign a lease. I might turn into, like, a pregnancy werewolf.”

Rhett isn’t entirely sure what that means, but he'll be damned if he doesn't get the privilege of driving to In-N-Out at 4 AM for animal fries. He's appalled Link would even think otherwise. “You think I’d let anyone else look after you when you’re knocked up?”

He's not going to be overprotective or overbearing, but it honestly makes him feel ill to think of Link living with random roommates or, heaven forbid, alone. Link's never lived alone in his whole life, he's just not built for it. He’s too chatty and too tactile, not to mention accident prone; Rhett needs to look after him. He can't even think about Link living on his own in a strange city with no one to help him with his pregnancies. Omegas have great pregnancies, Rhett’s practically memorized that book on contract breeding from the Campbell library, but no one should have to do it alone.

“Just sayin’,” Link says ominously. “I could be a monster waiting to happen.”

“You’re my favorite mythical creature. I’ll deal with it.”

The way Link’s face lights up reminds Rhett for the thousandth time that there was never any chance of them _not_ sticking together after graduation. 

After Link told his family about his post-grad plans, everything suddenly seemed _real_. Rhett hardly remembers telling his family, just vague flashes of blurting out, "Okay, so, Link is moving to California so I'm gonna need to line up some job interviews out there," because it was just a foregone conclusion to him that he'd be going too. 

Driving cross-country together means lots of male bonding and road trip hijinks, but it also means long stretches of Link falling asleep and leaving Rhett bored out of his mind. And bickering. Rhett did not anticipate the bickering.

Part of this is his fault, he’ll own up to that. You can’t bicker with yourself, after all. And sometimes it’s just harmless petty stuff, like whether to pop in a CD or play roulette with the radio. But sometimes it’s about weightier things.

Rhett hasn't been a virgin since freshman year of college, but he still feels so anxious about Link doing this. He doesn't necessarily think your first time should be special and sacred the way he used to, but he does think it's pretty intense to go into the breeding industry with no experience at all.

And there are times, on long flat stretches of midwestern highway with nothing but silos and shimmery mirages for company, where he can’t help saying so.

“I _get_ it, man,” Link explodes at one point, fingers blanched around the steering wheel. “You’ve got a job all lined up, you’re gonna be a respectable civil engineer and crap, but that doesn’t mean you get to rip me to shreds for not doing the same thing.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Rhett grits at him. “It kinda freaks me out that you don’t have any fucking experience with this and you--” 

“ _Neither do you,_ ” Link cuts him off shrilly. “You’re moving across the whole damn country to start a new job too, okay? And for fuck’s sake, I do _too_ have experience, I just,” he takes one hand off the wheel to flail like he’s trying to grab the right words out of the air, “I just haven’t experienced this particular thing yet.” 

Rhett gets it, kind of. Link’s had to go through adolescence with a hope chest lurking in the corner and it just made him want the opposite of everything it stood for. If _he_ grew up an omega, being taught that his fertility the ultimate gift, Rhett might be determined to make his sex life as businesslike as possible too. Link’s too pragmatic to just be indiscriminately promiscuous and Rhett doesn't think he has the constitution for it anyway. Becoming a contract breeder is probably the most _Link_ decision he could possibly make. A little off the wall, but still solid in its own way.

“You know how much it fuckin’ sucks to always be hung up on whether people see you as a person or just an omega?” Link is stumbling over his words, trying to get everything out too fast. “I mean, come on, you of all people should know what it's like to want sex with no obligations.

“You’re trying to be a fucking _breeder_ ,” Rhett bursts out. “That comes with the _ultimate_ obligation."

The road in front of them is a flat gray stretch of nothing, but Link takes his eyes off it to glare at Rhett just a little too long for comfort. “Yeah, I am. Don’t be a fucking jerk about it. And don’t call me that if you’re gonna use it like an insult.”

On paper, Link’s nascent occupation is referred to as “surrogate” or “fertility donor.” Breeder is a more slangy way of saying the same thing, not necessarily derogatory unless you’re being an asshole.

Rhett might be kind of an asshole.

“Sorry,” Rhett mumbles.

Link’s grip on the wheel loosens. “It’s okay.” He flashes a lopsided smile that would make Rhett’s knees go weak if he wasn’t sitting down. “We got this, dude. It’s all good.”

Even though they’re five hundred miles from their destination, they don’t fight again.

By the time they cross into California, Link is practically exuding pixie dust. It’s not uncommon for Rhett to catch him just watching the road with huge grin on his face. It would be disconcerting coming from anyone but Link, who manages to make it seem endearing. Rhett’s entirely aware he’s kind of biased on this point.

“We did it,” Link breathes once they’re within the city limits. “Holy crap, we actually made it and we didn’t die.” He brakes at a red light and then the full force of that incandescent smile is turned right on Rhett. “Hey. I’m glad you’re here, man.”

As if there was ever any question of that.

Rhett doesn’t say anything in return at first, just reaches across the console and gives his shoulder a squeeze. Link, bless him, actually bounces in his seat. Rhett’s chest suddenly feels alarmingly tight.

“Where else was I gonna be?”

 

* * *

 

Rhett offers to drive Link to the agency for his first official appointment, but Link shuts down the suggestion immediately.

"You'd just make me nervous, bo," he says, fixing his bangs in the hall mirror for the fifth time.

"How would I make you nervous?" Rhett asks, offended.

"Because you're shredding our TV Guide right now."

Rhett looks down and sees the magazine in his hands screwed into a wad of damp paper. "Oh." 

"I'll be fine, dude. And I'll pick up some food on the way back." Link finally stops fussing with his hair and turns to Rhett, arms out. "How do I look? Fertile?" 

"Oh, totally," Rhett smiles, "You'd almost say you were an omega in his twenties." 

"Okay. I'll have my pager, but don't page me. I promise I'll fill you in when I get back." Link grabs his keys and gives Rhett a wave as he walks out the door.

Rhett spends the next several hours throwing all his nervous energy into trying to best Link's high score on Rainbow Road. He doesn't even know what he's scared of, it's not like Link is coming home pregnant. _But he will soon_ , says a little voice in the back of Rhett's head.

He's so caught up in his game that the clunk of the deadbolt makes him jump.

"I got In-N-Out!" Link's singsong voice calls from the hallway. The bag of food is the first thing Rhett sees, then Link pokes his head around the door. "And three of these burgers are for you, brother."

Rhett feels his body relax in an instant. "So things went well?" 

"Oh man, it was great," Link tosses the bag on the kitchen table and pulls off his shoes before he sits down. "Everyone was really nice, and there were a couple other new applicants there when I was waiting, and they've already matched me with this beta woman who's gonna be there while I'm… y'know, getting knocked up, and they told me they'd put my profile in the system and I'll be hearing from them about potential contracts next week."

"Next week? That's fast," Rhett says, hoisting himself off the couch and joining Link at the table. Link slides three burgers and a box of fries over to Rhett. 

"I mean, it's not that fast. I'll still have to do interviews with them and then I get some time to decide who I want to go with, it's not like I'm gonna go in there next week and just spread my legs."

Rhett chokes on a fry. "That's… good to know." He starts on a burger just to occupy his mouth before he says something moronic. "So when do you get to meet this bodyguard chick?"

Link rolls his eyes and lobs a fry across the table in Rhett's direction. "She's not my bodyguard, she's called my claviger. Her name is Stephanie, and I asked them to send her here on Friday."

Rhett pauses mid-bite. "She's coming here?"

"Well yeah," Link says, like it should have been obvious, "She's coming at seven, so you'll be home from work. I want you to meet her too."

Rhett bites his cheek to stop from grinning too hard at that. "So you're finally admitting that you're a terrible judge of character?"

" _No_ ," Link says, tossing another fry, "I just know you'll ask me a million questions about her if I meet her alone, so I might as well head them off and have you there for it."

Rhett smiles, taking a huge bite of burger. "Much appreciated," he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

"We will obviously not be eating in front of her," Link says, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth and grinning across the table at Rhett.

 

* * *

 

"We should have finished unpacking, right? Like, we've been here for a month, it's kind of weird that there are still boxes lying around."

Link's been buzzing around the apartment in a cleaning frenzy ever since Rhett got home from work. The kitchen floor is now whiter than it was when they moved in, and the bathroom smells like apple pie, somehow.

"I don't think she's going to care about the boxes, dude," Rhett says, gently taking the furniture polish out of Link's hand. "She's not coming over to judge you, remember? The agency already signed you, they can't take it back now, even if you're a slob."

Link sighs, stepping closer and leaning his forehead against Rhett's shoulder. "I know, I just don't want her to think I'm… I don't know, irresponsible, I guess."

"She won't," Rhett promises, wrapping his arms around Link and pressing his nose into Link's hair. "You lit scented candles, dude. What's more responsible than that?"

Link huffs a laugh against Rhett's shirt, "Thanks." His arms come up to grasp Rhett's waist, making no move to end the hug. "It's just weird thinking about some stranger being there while I'm… y'know."

"Well she won't be a stranger after tonight, right?" Rhett says, "And if you don't like her, then I'll be your clonjigger or whatever."

"Claviger," Link corrects, voice still muffled against Rhett's shoulder.

"Right, that. So it's all gonna be fine, I promise," Rhett says, rubbing soothing circles between Link's shoulder blades.

Link is quiet then, just leaning into Rhett, clutching onto his t-shirt.

Rhett sighs. "Do you want me to move the boxes into my bedroom?"

Link pulls away immediately, grinning. "That'd be amazing! Thanks, bo!" he says as he bounds back over to the kitchen to light yet another candle.

There's a knock on the door just as Rhett is depositing the last box onto his dresser.

"I'll get it!" Link calls, as if Rhett was about to run to the door.

He takes a second to check himself out in his mirror before he walks out to see Link shaking the hand of a slight blonde girl who is definitely younger than them.

"Please, just call me Stevie," the girl is saying, glancing up at Rhett as he approaches. "And you're Link's roommate? Rhett, right?"

"Hey," Rhett says, hesitantly reaching out and shaking her hand. "Uh, yeah, Rhett, that's me."

"Cool, well, I'm Stevie, I'm going to be Link's claviger for the foreseeable future," she says, stepping into their apartment. "So this is just going to be an icebreaker kind of meeting, so we're all comfortable with each other when my services are actually needed."

Link and Stevie make themselves comfortable at the table while Rhett busies himself with making coffee. He does his best not to scrutinize the conversation happening directly behind him; it doesn't matter what he thinks, he reminds himself, this is about Link getting comfortable with the person who's going to be responsible for his safety during his contracts.

"Yeah, so most of us are students, it's definitely a part-time job," Stevie is saying as Rhett places a cup in front of her. "Basically I just hang out, I get some reading done, and I'm there if you need me for anything at all."

"You're a student?" Rhett asks, inching his chair closer to Link's before sitting down.

Stevie nods. "Film studies, second year."

Rhett doesn't have to look at Link to know his face is lighting up.

"That's so cool, Rhett and I were going to go into something like that!" Link says, "Engineering was just kind of the pragmatic choice. We actually wrote a whole screenplay when we were kids, which should never see the light of day, but we were pretty passionate about it."

Stevie smiles, taking a sip of her coffee. "I've got a couple childhood movie scripts back at my mom's house in Raleigh."

"You grew up in Raleigh, seriously?" Link's smile would be lighting up the room, if he hadn't lit six hundred candles in it already.

Link and Stevie seem to hit it off immediately, and even Rhett had to grudgingly admit that if it has to be anyone but him looking after Link during his contracts, Stevie seems like the kind of level-headed no-nonsense individual he'd want to do it.

They chat for at least an hour, Rhett staying dutifully silent for most of it. He's happy Link wanted him here, but he doesn't want to get in the way of Link getting comfortable with Stevie. That's the goal tonight, after all.

As she stands to leave, Stevie takes a card from her pocket and hands it to Rhett.

"Link's got all my contact info, but I thought you'd want to have it too. That's my cell, my pager, and the number for my voicemail at the agency. I'm always available, for both of you."

Rhett stares down at the card. "Thanks… Stevie Wynne-Levine. I appreciate that."

Stevie takes her empty cup from the table and places it in the sink, which Rhett knows earns her instant bonus points with Link.

"Link, give me a call when you get the news about your potentials, I can help you go through the applications if you want." Stevie gives them a smile, and Link sees her out. He shuts the door behind her and turns to Rhett, grinning.

"She's so cool," he says, bounding across the room and starting to extinguish the candles in the kitchen. "You like her, right?"

"If I had to have someone supervising me while I made babies, I'd definitely want it to be her," Rhett says, gathering up the remaining coffee cups and getting to work washing them.

Link rolls his eyes and gives Rhett a punch in the shoulder as he walks past, but he's still smiling.

 

* * *

 

The agency makes good on their promise. Five days after they meet Stevie, Link comes home from a grocery run to see their answering machine blinking.

_Hi, this is Michael from West Coast Fertility, calling for Link Neal. Link, we have three parties who have expressed interest in your surrogacy services. If you could give us a call at your earliest opportunity, we can set up your interviews and we'll proceed from there. Have a good day, Mr. Neal._

Link stands paralyzed in the middle of the kitchen, box of pizza bagels in his hand.

Three. Three interested couples. Six individual people read his profile and looked at his pictures and decided that skinny, gangly, walking disaster Link should be the guy who carries their baby. Who donates half the genes for their baby. Who comes to their house and gets _impregnated with their baby_.

He's suddenly very glad that he had the forethought to pick up some booze at the supermarket.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a beer in hand, Link can do nothing to stop his mind from racing. It feels like just a few weeks ago he was telling Rhett about this plan in their tiny apartment at the edge of campus, and now all of a sudden it's happening.

For a wild two minutes, he thinks about just going out tonight and finding some alpha to hook up with, so at least he doesn't have to deal with that extra layer of awkwardness when the time comes. Rhett does it all the time, surely Link could find someone willing to do a little courtesy deflowering.

Even in his head, though, the idea sounds wrong. A tiny, long-suppressed part of him wishes he could just ask Rhett, because at least then it'd be with someone he knows, someone who knows him as more than just a young omega with a nice scent.

Rhett would be so nice to him, Link knows it. He'd kiss him and wrap him up in those warm arms of his, smile and laugh with him, ask him if everything was okay before he slipped those long, thick fingers inside--

Link feels a wave of guilt crash over him almost immediately. Rhett is his best friend, and for all Link knows, he's not even into omegas. Link shouldn't be thinking of him as some kind of fluffer. It's just -- and he seldom voices this, even to himself -- even though he's obviously long since moved past the idea of having to wait until he's married to have sex, he still kind of wants it to at least feel… special.

Then again, what could be more special than helping a nice couple have a baby?

Which circles him back around to the reason he's sitting alone in his kitchen chugging a Budweiser. He's days away from meeting the person who's going to take his virginity while simultaneously _impregnating him_. Was his life always this weird?

By the time Rhett gets home from work, Link is two beers in and starting to see the humor in the situation.

"Buddy!" he calls out as Rhett sheds his suit jacket, "Six people wanna knock me up!"

Rhett's eyes look like they're going to pop out of his head for a second. "Uh, congrats?"

"It's so freakin' crazy, right?" Link goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer, handing it to Rhett as he walks past towards his bedroom.

"Why is that crazy?" Rhett asks, half a smile on his face as he frees himself from his button-down.

Link leans against Rhett's bedroom door, taking a long drink and sighing. "I don't know, dude, it just doesn't feel real that there are that many people who want me to have their baby."

"Come on, you're a healthy young omega, you're like a freaking unicorn."

"A unicorn with a forehead the size of Kansas and the taste buds of a six year old," Link points out, studying the label on his bottle while Rhett strips off his slacks.

"And good teeth, and blue eyes, and an engineering degree," Rhett says, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. "So they'll give the kid a multivitamin when it refuses to eat anything but chicken fingers and peanut butter, there are worse flaws. I mean, _I'd_ want you to have my baby."

Link blinks at him and Rhett clears his throat, cracking open his beer and taking a long swallow.

"Thanks, bo," Link says softly while Rhett brushes past him on his way out to the living room.

"So when do you get to choose who you go with?" he asks, throwing his long body onto the couch.

"Uh," Link says, taking a seat in the armchair, "I haven't called back yet. I kind of just… started drinking, and then it was after five and they were closed."

Rhett nods in understanding. "Guess we'll just… celebrate tonight, right?"

"Totally," Link replies, grateful that they're calling it a celebration and not a funeral for Link's innocence, which it was starting to feel like before Rhett got home. "Three couples, dude. I'm hot shit."

Rhett holds out his bottle and Link clinks his own against it.

"To being hot shit," Rhett says before downing half the bottle in one go. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he grins. "Gotta catch up with you if we're gonna do this right."

 

* * *

 

"It took me three days to work up the courage to open it, and when I did, it was a _huge_ _freaking vibrator_ , dude. From my _great aunt_."

Link is lying on the living room floor, gesturing at the ceiling, which has recently started to spin.

"Your family is crazy. Being an omega is _crazy_." Rhett says from the couch, polishing off his… sixth beer, Link thinks? Rhett drinks fast.

"There was a note taped the the box," Link giggles, his face flushing hot, "It said, 'For when the time comes'. That's code for 'when you're properly mated in the eyes of God to a big, strong alpha who won't even want to use it because he's got his own equipment'."

Rhett snorts. "Or when you're in heat and you don't give a shit about the rules anymore."

Link shakes his head vehemently. "No way, nuh-uh, I'm not touching that thing with a ten-foot pole. It's still in the box. Would you wanna use a sex toy that your Aunt Dottie gave you?"

" _No_ ," Rhett says quickly, giving a shudder. "Why'd you bring the chest here if you don't use the stuff in it?"

Link sighs. "My mom asked me to take it. I think it's like, the last symbol she has of my omega purity."

Rhett nods but says nothing. Link feels awkward all of a sudden, a little residual pang of guilt when he thinks about the things his mom wanted for him when he grew up, represented in the hope chest she so carefully curated for him.

"Hey," he says, sitting up. He waits for the room to stop moving, then continues, "Do you wanna see what's in it?"

And that's how they end up in Link's bedroom, Rhett perched on the bed while Link rummages through the giant cedar chest for the most heinous items it's collected over the years.

"Oh, these are good, she got me these when I first presented: Egyptian cotton sheets for my official deflowering," he puts the sheets on the bed next to Rhett. "Think I should bring them over for my first contract, see if we can put them to their intended use?"

"If they don't already have sheets on their bed, I'm not sure if you wanna be having their baby," Rhett replies.

"True, definitely true," Link agrees, pushing around boxes of silverware and tablecloths. "Here's Aunt Dottie's little gift," he pulls out the box, note still attached, and tosses it at Rhett.

Rhett catches it and gapes. "This is not a _little_ gift, brother," he says, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence.

Link laughs, watching the color bloom on Rhett's cheeks. "Yeah, I feel like that one's a little advanced for even an experienced guy."

Rhett clears his throat and places the vibrator to the side, blinking down at the box a few times before saying, "Or maybe your Great Uncle Harold is just a lot more blessed than we thought."

It takes a moment for Link to process that, but when he does, he nearly gags. "Sick, dude!" he shouts, tossing a pair of lace underwear at Rhett.

The panties hit him square in the face and Link howls as he flails.

"Don't freak out, it's not like I wear those things," he laughs as Rhett examines the pale pink undergarment.

"Hey, I'm used to people throwing their underwear at me," Rhett says with a smirk, flicking them back at Link like a rubber band. Link holds them up to his hips, striking a pose.

"Whaddaya think, could I pull it off?"

Rhett barks out a laugh, then quickly turns his head and picks up the set of sheets, squinting at the label.

Link drops the panties, not even a little bit sorry for making it awkward. Glancing back into the chest, he sees an envelope sitting at the bottom. His mom's neat cursive addresses it to 'My son's mate'.

Link reaches in and pulls the envelope out, huffing a little chuckle through his nose.

"What is it?" Rhett asks.

"A letter from my mom to my future alpha," Link says, flopping down on the bed next to Rhett. "She put this in here on my sixteenth birthday."

He must sound a little sad, because Rhett puts his arm around Link's shoulders and gives him a squeeze. "At least something in that thing still applies, then."

Link gives a short laugh. "If I ever find one, I'm sure they'll be delighted to read it."

"Come on," Rhett says, flicking Link's ear playfully. "A genius omega who spent his early twenties helping other people have babies? Some random alpha should be so lucky."

Link cuddles into Rhett's shoulder, grateful that he has the booze to blame it on. He tries not to think about being married someday, purely because the odds dictate that Rhett'll get there a lot sooner than him, and that'll mean it won't just be them anymore. It'll be like when Colin Peters had that sleepover at Rhett's house, except Link will be an adult who isn't allowed to give his best friend the silent treatment just because he's hanging out with someone else. A lifelong sleepover that Link doesn't get invited to. He knows it'll happen eventually; an alpha like Rhett isn't going to go un-caught for long.

"Hey," Link says, picking his head up off Rhett's shoulder. "You ever seen a butt plug with a diamond heart on the end of it?"

"Oh gosh, please be joking," Rhett covers his face with his hands as Link bounces back over to the chest, cackling.

 

* * *

 

Link's meetings with his prospective clients go as well as Rhett knew they would, and before long, Rhett comes home to a smiling, jittery Link, announcing that he'd made his decision.

After that, it's a waiting game.

Link meets with the couple a few more times while Rhett, for the most part, sits at home and tries -- usually unsuccessfully -- to keep himself from thinking about that night a few weeks ago when he finally got a glimpse inside the hope chest that he's been wondering about for years. Link had passed him item after item, most of them sex toys, until Rhett had rasped, "You use these things?" against his better judgement.

He'll never, ever forget the sly grin on Link's face as he said, "Not all at once, bo," in his huskiest voice, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Obviously not, dude, I wouldn't make you look at the stuff I actually _use_ and risk you having some kind of meltdown over it," he'd said.

It was the right assumption for the wrong reason.

Now every time Rhett is alone, his brain is continuously supplying fantastical images of Link with one of those giant vibrators between his legs, spread out on his bed, covered in the sheen of sweat that his heats bring, using that same low, rough voice to whisper, "I need you, bo."

It's a real problem.

Ordinarily, this kind of predicament would drive Rhett out to the nearest bar to prowl for someone willing to take him home for the night, but he's way too anxious right now for that. He wants to spend every free minute he has by Link's side, irrationally feeling like their whole lives are about to change.

He catches the scent of Link's impending heat about five seconds before Link feels it. They're watching TV, Link nestled under Rhett's arm as he tends to do when his heats are close, when he puts his hand to his forehead.

"Oh," he says, his body going tense at Rhett's side. "I'm hot."

There's a small flurry of activity then; Link packs a duffel bag full of extra clothes and the regular heat provisions like Gatorade and cereal bars while Rhett calls Stevie, who's responsible for notifying the couple and making all the necessary last-minute arrangements.

Stevie says she'll be there to pick Link up first thing in the morning, and to call her at home if Link's heat starts progressing faster than expected.

"There's no need for him to suffer through it, this can happen whenever his body wants it to, even if it's four in the morning."

Rhett's never liked her more than in that moment.

It's odd, Rhett's prepared himself to have to suppress a wave of jealousy the likes of which the world has never known, but it doesn't happen. He's too nervous, and too busy hiding his nerves from Link, to even think about being jealous.

Link, for his part, seems about as excited as he is anxious, which Rhett figures is pretty healthy. They stay up a little later than they should that night, flicking through the channels, and the hug Rhett wraps Link into before they go off to their bedrooms lasts a little longer than normal. It's as much for him as it is for Link.

He's up at the crack of dawn the next morning, making pancakes and glancing every three seconds at Link's bedroom door. Eventually Link emerges, color high on his cheeks and his eyes a little glassy. Rhett's seen that look in the past, usually right before Link shuffled up to a teacher's desk and asked for a note to see the nurse. Compared to that, Link looks positively relaxed.

"You okay? I made breakfast," Rhett says, resisting the urge to take him by the shoulders and examine him more closely.

"M'fine," Link smiles, "Starving, thanks man."

Rhett picks at his own pancakes as he watches Link devour his stack, using about half a bottle of maple syrup in the process.

"So I'll call you as soon as I can, or I'll ask Stevie to do it," Link is saying through a mouthful of food, "They say it should only last a few hours, since my body's not gonna keep the heat going once I'm pregnant."

He's speaking so matter-of-factly about things that used to make him duck his head and blush and giggle with nerves. Rhett knows part of that is just the heat lowering his inhibitions, but a lot of it is just how far Link's come, how comfortable he is with his body nowadays. Rhett clings to that thought like a lifeline. Link knows what he's doing, and this is all going to turn out fine. Better than fine, actually. It's going to be amazing.

His pancakes gone, Link hops up from the table and goes off to shower. Rhett washes the dishes so he has something to do with his hands, and jumps about a mile when the intercom buzzes.

"Hey, it's Stevie," comes the tinny voice when Rhett answers the call, "No rush, just let Link know I'm here in the parking lot when he's ready."

Link reappears, the scent of soap nowhere near strong enough to overpower that of his heat. He grabs his bag when Rhett informs him that Stevie is waiting, and takes a long, deep breath as he walks to the door.

"Wish me luck, I guess?" he says, turning to Rhett with a small smile.

Against all his better judgement, Rhett surges forward and wraps Link into a bear hug, taking a deep breath of his own with Link's skin so close to him. He swears he can feel Link nuzzling him, his body trembling almost imperceptibly, before he forces himself to break it off. 

"Luck," he says, opening the door for Link.

Link gives him one last wave as he shuts the door. Rhett sighs, resting his forehead against it, feeling surprisingly warm considering he's not the one in heat.

He hopes this eventually gets easier.


	6. Chapter 6

After a lifetime of conditioning about the importance of purity, and almost a decade of omega-specific caveats layered on top, Link finds it pretty gratifying to leave his virginity at the door.

The door belonging to the _Averys_ , specifically. The door situated in a million dollar ranch house nestled in the heart of a gated Encino community, garlanded with palms and jacarandas, currently home to a happily married alpha and beta whose fertility treatments for the past four years just haven’t been working.

Link likes the Averys. Christopher is a marketing exec for a Fortune 500 company and Adrianne is an estate planner who’d laughed uproariously when Link made a wisecrack about writing his will in case he just isn’t cut out for this whole fertility thing. His sessions with them have been nothing but pleasant and he has no reason to think getting knotted and knocked up by Christopher will be any less pleasant. It’s a little jarring to go from lunch interviews and planning sessions with the two of them alongside a rep from the West Coast Fertility reproductive rights legal team, but it’s not as if Link didn’t realize what he was getting into.

He’s still jittery as hell on the drive over, even with the familiar dizzying neediness of his heat setting in and Stevie wisely playing smooth jazz the whole way. “I’ll be just downstairs the whole time,” she promises. “I’ll be checking in every now and then, but I’ll never go into the room unless you use your safeword. Which you’ll be doing the second you feel uncomfortable in any way, got it? This is about your safety first and surrogacy second.”

“Yeah,” Link says vaguely, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Meanwhile, he’s running through a mental list of everything that could possibly go the opposite of fine. All this time he’s been led to believe being knotted by an alpha is one of the most intimate and significant experiences, but he's still never _actually_ experienced it. Suddenly he feels fourteen again, desperate with hormones and frustrated with his body for doing everything wrong.

What if he's mistimed his heat and he and his client end up sitting around playing checkers until it hits for real? What if he’s dressed too casually for this? It doesn’t matter that he’ll be naked in less than an hour, what if the Averys decide they don’t want a skinny, massive-foreheaded omega in a “you can’t see me, I’m a ninja” shirt to have anything to do with the genetic makeup of their child? Link suddenly has a very powerful urge to call Rhett and ask if he should have worn some of his dumb hope chest lingerie for this.

It _is_ supposed to be for his deflowering, which is pretty much exactly what this is. Technically, Link kissed his flower goodbye when he was eighteen, courtesy of the first vibrator he ever bought, but vibrators tend not to care what you’re wearing and what your genetics are like.

“Hey,” Stevie says softly. “You know they picked you because you were the best one for the job, right? You’ve got this.”

Somehow they’ve been buzzed into the subdivision without Link noticing. Stevie turns a corner and the Avery house edges into view, unassumingly opulent and so darn _California_ looking that Link can’t stifle a wild little laugh. This is his career path he picked, getting devirginized and impregnated by wealthy west coast alphas. Maybe he should have stuck with using his engineering degree instead of his fertility.

Maybe he should have stayed home and taken a day to get through his heat on his own like usual. That wouldn't have been so bad, he’s used to it by now. And Rhett would have been there to make him breakfast again the next day, that would have been okay too. Not to mention Rhett always smells so good to Link when he’s on the brink of a heat--that nice alpha scent that they all have, but better because it's so familiar and comforting.

That morning, before Rhett left for work, he gave Link a pep talk for his first breeding session like it was his first day of school. "If anything happens and you need me, call me _right away_ , okay? You're gonna do great!"

At the time, Link had laughed him off, but now he’s suddenly grateful to have that memory to draw on. No matter what happens, he's got the most wonderful best friend ever.

“Link.” Stevie’s pale eyes are wide and calm and so much like Rhett’s for a split second that it makes Link’s chest ache. “I mean it. You’ve got this.”

“I got this,” Link repeats.

He flashes her a grin and gets out of the car.

 

* * *

 

Rhett isn’t completely useless the day of Link’s first fertility contract, but he’s pretty close to it.

He does go to work, since it’s technically a workday, but he’s so unproductive he might as well have stayed home. There are maybe ten minutes during his billable hours where he’s actually accomplishing anything beyond silently agonizing on Link’s behalf. He spends the rest of the time compulsively checking his beeper, his email, and the cheeky "makin' babies ;)" away message that pops up beside Link’s screen name whenever he furtively checks his buddy list.

When he finally does get a page from Link, it startles him so much he almost knocks over his coffee.

 _all ok. txt when on way hme. ;)_ "

Rhett takes a few deep breaths and reminds himself he’s too young and fit to be having heart palpitations. Unless Link’s clients have taken him hostage and decided to nefariously page Rhett to throw him off the trail, everything seems to be all right. He vacillates about paging Link in return--what if he causes the most awkward coitus interruptus in the world?--but eventually just goes for it. It’s no weirder than all those times in high school when Link called him during lulls.

_good 2 hear. b safe :)_

He deliberately doesn’t take a lunch break, no matter how vehemently his stomach protests. Link’s going to page him when Stevie’s dropping him off at their apartment, and Rhett has to be ready to meet them there on a moment’s notice.

Just to check in. Just to make sure things are okay. Link is a bundle of nerves under most circumstances. Who the heck knows what a post-heat, freshly pregnant Link might be like?

An awful lot like a sleepy kitten, it turns out.

Rhett leadfoots his way home as well as he can in LA traffic, only to find Link dozing on the couch with an afghan spread over him and a pleased little smile on his lips.

In the recliner across the living room, Stevie is sipping a mug of tea and paging through a volume of Artaud. Between the two of them, they’re a veritable portrait of serenity.

Rhett gapes, glancing back and forth in case he’s missed any signs of impending disaster.

Stevie looks up, apparently unfazed by this. “Hi, Rhett.”

“Is he okay?” Rhett blurts out.

“He’s doing great. We got back like twenty minutes ago and he passed out right away.”

Rhett’s so relieved he could happily collapse then and there. “So...nothing went wrong?”

“Nope,” Stevie responds. “Totally fine. We’ve got him scheduled for a checkup on Thursday, just standard procedure. He’ll probably be awake in a few hours and he’ll probably want to eat everything you’ve got. Pregnancy heats are shorter, but they still take a lot out of you.”

Link certainly _seems_ fine, and Rhett has no reason to doubt Stevie’s reassurances, but he calls in and takes personal leave for the rest of the day anyway. The secretary in charge of payroll updates his schedule and adds that she hopes his friend is feeling better soon. There’s a slight hesitation in her voice before the word _friend,_ which Rhett tries to ignore. His co-workers know the reason he always smells a bit like an omega are because of Link, and Rhett’s had to explain several times that he’s not mated, he just happens to live with his omega best friend. Though lately he’s been wondering if maybe he should just go on letting people assume what they want.

After all, Link _is_ his family and sometimes it feels like they might as well be mated.

Rhett tries not to think about this very often, but sometimes it just can't be helped.

 

* * *

  


It’s a balmy Saturday morning when Rhett drags himself out of a bed that isn’t his and makes himself look presentable enough to be seen in public. The alpha guy he met last night is still passed out, but Rhett’s done this enough times by now to know how to leave a morning-after note without guilt.

He makes it home, McDonald’s bag clutched in one hand after a much-needed drive thru run, and has every intention of showering and then maybe going back to sleep for a couple more hours. But when he opens the door, he’s greeted with the sight of Link perched at the kitchen table with his laptop in front of him and a particularly owlish look on his face.

Before he even opens his mouth, Rhett knows.

“Dude,” Link says, pointing towards his stomach. “There’s something in there.”

The last threads of Rhett’s hangover relinquish their hold as suddenly as if Link had doused him with ice water.

“When did you find out?” His voice somehow comes out sounding gruff and breathless at the same time.

“Yesterday, at my appointment.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Link shrugs and waggles his eyebrows. “You were out living the high life, man. I feel like this is the kind of thing you should say in person. I did tell my mom, though.”

It’s the politest way possible for him to call Rhett out for plunging into Friday night dick-first without waiting to hear how Link’s checkup went. Rhett looks away, feeling like the biggest douchebag on the planet. “Shit, Link. You could’ve--I didn’t know.”

Link just laughs. “You know what, you better enjoy your free time while you can. Pretty soon I’m gonna have you picking up snacks every time you leave the house.”

“Anything you want,” Rhett says right away, but Link’s already moved on.

“Holy crap, man. I’m gonna have a baby.” He looks so adorably, absolutely blown away by this that Rhett can’t resist sidling up to half-hug him.

“Yeah,” Rhett replies with a snort, “that was kind of the objective here, remember?”

“Hey, I signed nothing that says I have to be calm about this,” Link says, but he leans in and gives Rhett a nudge in return. “So, y’know, sorry in advance if I start freaking out or smelling funky or something.”

“So in other words, I probably won’t even notice a difference until you look like a beluga?”

Link digs an elbow into his ribs.

Despite his flippancy, Rhett essentially takes on pregnancy monitoring as an unofficial second job. He can’t not look after Link, it’s just one of many inevitabilities that holds them together. There's definitely a brief period of panic where Link spends a lot of time wondering out loud  why the heck he thought this was a good idea and listing off all the ways he's going to accidentally screw things up somehow, so Rhett in turn spends lots of time soothing him and reminding him why he chose to do this.

And as the weeks go by, Link’s scent begins to change.

Ever so subtly, but it does happen. There’s a different note to it now, a delicate edge of something new and delicious. Rhett is hyperaware of it and keeps wanting to pounce on Link and scent him. Or at least just so happen to follow him around in order to breathe him in a little deeper. There’s nothing weird about that, he reassures himself; if anything, seeing how happy and fascinated Rhett is by all this is probably helping to lessen the scariness of it for Link.

He's never encountered a scent like that in his life, not just pregnancy but a pregnant omega, plus _Link._ Pregnant omegas just smell so good to alphas, which makes perfect sense on an evolutionary, biological level, and Link _always_ smells good to Rhett. It's like the most decadent cocktail.

The next time they watch a movie on the couch, Rhett catches himself burying his nose into Link's hair while Link leans on his shoulder. Neither of them acknowledge it, but neither of them move either.

That weekend, Rhett goes out drinking with some coworkers and hooks up with a nice beta chick. He needs to get himself together.

Being around Link when he's pregnant just makes Rhett feel calm and happy, but that in and of itself is a dangerous road to go down.The primal, idiot alpha part of him is snarling at the fact that it's not his baby, but he’s gotten good at ignoring that.

Mostly.

He tries to be a good best friend and not act like a dumb caveman of an alpha. Link being pregnant means he’s extra receptive to back rubs and weird snacks his usual picky palate would never accommodate, which is pretty awesome. Rhett even takes to browsing the Expectant sections in department stores in case there’s a particularly snarky shirt he can snag for Link. His collection is starting to get pretty impressive.

And once, when Link’s scent is too intoxicating for Rhett to sleep, he leaves for the weekend and sleeps with an omega instead.

It’s a blindsiding happenstance. The guy’s only been in town for a few weeks and he’s eager to experience everything LA has to offer, which lucky for Rhett happens to include overgrown alphas in plaid shirts. His name is either Ian or Liam, it’s hard for Rhett to tell in the din of the bar, but he’s pretty sure Ian-or-Liam keeps calling him Brett so clearly they’re operating on the same wavelength.

“You smell like you’ve already got an omega at home, man,” one of Ian-or-Liam’s buddies points out, and Rhett has to explain that this is technically true but not the way he thinks.

“I live with my best friend, but we’re not a thing,” he says. “I’m not looking for anything but a fun night.” Rhett’s only slept with an omega once, and it was a messy drunken college affair. He’s a little older now, if not that much wiser, but he definitely isn’t some predatory heat-seeker.

Ian-or-Liam rolls his eyes and groans in a very Link-like manner while Rhett finagles his way through a posse of protective housemates. Not for the first time, Rhett thinks it must be annoying as hell to be an omega and have everyone thinking they either have a right to lay claim to you or make your choices for you. But at the same time, it’s actually kind of reassuring seeing how much Ian-or-Liam’s friends look out for him. He’s never been out to a club like this with Link, but chances are Rhett would be in full-on alpha bodyguard mode too.

The housemate-bodyguards make Rhett hand over his keys, then his driver’s license, then prove he’s got condoms on him. “This is either a really good con or a really thorough vetting process,” Rhett remarks as he complies.

“Believe me,” Ian-or-Liam says long-sufferingly, “it’s a vetting process. Guys, can I take him home now?”

His mouth is on Rhett’s before he catches the answer, but he can draw his own conclusions.

So Rhett goes home with him. If he’s lucky, having a night full of omega-fueled indulgence will throw some cold water on his crush.The possibility makes him dizzy with hope and anxiety at the same time--so much of how he relates to Link has to do with being in love with him. Will he even know who he is anymore if that changes?

As it turns out, there’s nothing to worry about. Hooking up with an omega who isn’t Link doesn’t give him anything except a night of fantastic sex and a lingering sense of guilt _because_ he hooked up with an omega who wasn't Link.

It just didn't feel right without Link's giggles and his sweet scent and the way his voice would go all soft and drawly the way Rhett always imagined it would in bed. Apparently when you’ve been perfecting a certain fantasy since age fourteen, getting an approximation of the real thing is more confusing than satisfying.

Rhett has a silent giggle fit in the bathroom over this. Most alphas would be over the moon if they got to knot an omega and here he is wishing for a different omega. Objectively speaking, it was a pretty awesome night. It was just _wrong._

The scent was wrong, Ian (definitely Ian, Rhett sneaked a peek inside his wallet) was too short, his hair was too light, his accent was different. Nothing about it was the way it was supposed to be. And Ian seemed like a fun, sweet guy too, the kind of guy who doesn’t deserve a one-night stand with someone who’s basically comparing him to someone else the entire time.

Rhett drives home in silence without even stopping for breakfast.

He doesn’t leave a note this time.

 

* * *

 

Other than the glorious, glorious epidural, Link doesn’t remember very much about giving birth.

“You kept asking the omega midwife if it was more PC to call him a midhusband,” Rhett tells him wryly. “You really, really wanted to know how he infiltrated the sisterhood.”

He has a vague, sketched-out recollection of calling Rhett in a panic when he realized what was happening, then immediately apologizing for freaking him out.

Link isn’t one hundred percent sure, but he thinks the words, “I'm dying,” might have been uttered.

He probably gave Rhett a heart attack, which just isn’t cool. Rhett’s been a champ about dealing with Link’s crankiness these past nine months, with his swelling ankles and aching back and cravings for country-fried steak and waffle fries in the dead of the night.

So now there’s a baby.

Rhett did not have a heart attack, Link did not annoy the midwife into smothering him with a pillow, and the Averys have their baby.

She’s tiny, five pounds and nine ounces, with a full head of jet-black hair and a nametag that says Bethany pinned to her blanket. When Link sees her for the first time, he keeps glancing between his own stomach and Bethany’s blotchy pink face, wondering how the heck she was ever in there.

His mom calls him to gush and congratulate him. The agency deposits another check into his account and sends a follow-up email reminding him the job isn’t done yet. Rhett picks up postnatal vitamins for him and graciously doesn’t make fun of Link’s first fumbling efforts to use a breast pump. Link has it sent over to the Averys on a daily basis and tries not to think about how weird this is.

Because it really is a little weird knowing Rhett can smell it every time he’s pumping, even if Link’s doing it behind closed doors. Link gets really sheepish about it sometimes. He knows Rhett's not the judging type, but sometimes being an omega is so inconvenient and awkward.

“How long before you have a heat again?” Rhett asks him one night.

“Like three months,” Link says vaguely, popping a chicken finger into his mouth. “Crazy, right? For once, my body actually cuts me a break and stops being so friggin’ persnickety.”

Rhett shakes his head a little. “Yeah. Seriously. Then what happens in three months?”

“Then, if I decide that’s what I wanna do, I meet with a new client and do it all over again.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Rhett glances at him again. “You gonna?”

And Link’s thought long and hard about this, weighing the pros and cons until his head is spinning, but he doesn’t hesitate for an instant when he answers. “Yeah. I think I wanna keep doing this for a little while.”

 

* * *

 

Link is about five months into his pregnancy with Baby Two when he starts wishing he had a hobby. There's only so much he can do during the day when Rhett isn't there to help occupy him, and most physical activities are out of the question by about month four, when he starts getting winded just walking around the supermarket.

He's up at the crack of dawn one morning, unable to sleep because Baby keeps practicing its tapdance routine in there, and he finds himself at his computer, trawling his favorite pregnancy sites. He's read it all before, of course, because he's nothing if not a thorough researcher, but he likes to reinforce the knowledge. A calm carrier means a calm baby, he hopes.

The problem is, most of the information out there isn't exactly directed towards omegas. Which is somewhat understandable, omegas aren't common, but heck, there are a couple million of them, surely that warrants a few dedicated websites. There are even fewer resources out there for omega breeders, which made Link's job research a lot more painful than it should have been.

This is the thought process that finds him signing up for a weblog at five in the morning.

He calls himself _kindofmythical_ , a nod to Rhett, who's been referring to him as a unicorn since they were kids. He's not an authority on omega health issues, but he would have given a limb to find a blog written by an omega breeder when he was looking into the industry, so surely there are a few others out there in the same boat.

He writes his little bio, going light on the identifying information, and posts the link to a few of the pregnancy forums he frequents.

Over the next few weeks, he updates his blog almost daily. It turns out he has a lot to say about breeding and life as an omega, and it's nice to have a sort of quasi-anonymous platform to unload it all. He gets a few comments here and there, mostly from couples who've used omega surrogacy themselves, but it's really just a diary that happens to be available for public consumption.

He doesn't even think to tell Rhett about it until an omega staff writer for a popular parenting site writes an actual article about his blog, calling it 'an unflinching look inside the veiled world of surrogacy and omega culture', which Link thinks is a little grand for a description of a glorified journal. He's occupied trying to respond to the flood of new comments when Rhett arrives home from work, greeting him with his standard, "How's little no-name today?"

"Good," Link says, distractedly, clicking post on another response. "Full disclosure, you're the supporting character on my internet blog that's kind of blowing up right now, that's cool, right?"

Rhett pauses in the middle of shedding his jacket. "I guess so?"

"Thanks, man," Link mutters, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm starting to seriously rethink my policy of responding to every individual comment, here."

Rhett takes a seat next to him on the couch. "Wait so, you're writing a blog? About us?"

"I mean, it's mostly about me, being a breeder and stuff," Link says, angling his laptop for Rhett to see, "But it's hard to write about my life without your name coming up a whole lot. It's really okay?"

"Totally," Rhett says, taking the laptop from him, "As long as you let me read it."

 

* * *

 

Rhett turns out to be beyond supportive of the blog. He comes home from work every day asking Link about some new comment or praising his latest entry. Link asks him to please not get fired for goofing off and reading blogs on the company dime, but Rhett seems unperturbed.

Around his seventh month, Link's fingers start to get achy whenever he tries to type up longer posts. He's writing an entry apologizing for the sporadic updates when Rhett bursts into the apartment with a bag from Radio Shack and a grin on his face.

"It's a webcam," he explains as he affixes it to the top of Link's laptop screen, "So you can take pictures and record videos and stuff to post when you can't type."

The camera turns out to be pretty good quality, and it takes every ounce of Link's restraint not to demand to know how much it cost. He's a little hesitant at first to put his face up on his blog for the world to see, but it's not like he's really keeping up his anonymity as it is. After all, there's probably not a lot of omega breeders named Link out there in the LA area. If anyone wanted to figure out who he was, it wouldn't be tough.

He takes a picture of himself, smiling awkwardly at his screen, and then immediately asks Rhett to get in on a video with him.

"I don't want to be the sole target of the mocking," he says, grinning when Rhett gives him a little shove.

In the video, he pulls Rhett onscreen and introduces him with the same line he uses to describe him in the blog's bio section, "This is Rhett, who's not _my_ alpha, but he's definitely the most important alpha in my life -- except my dad, but I don't let my dad rub lotion on my stretch marks, so uh… Say hi, Rhett!"

Rhett gives a wave and a goofy smile, drawling out a "Hey y'all," in the thick southern accent they both like to play up when they're talking to native Californians.

"So I'm gonna try to do video updates on days when my fingers don't cooperate, and I might even get Rhett in on a few of them, he likes the attention." Link smirks and winks at the camera as Rhett ruffles his hair.

He gets almost as many comments on that first video post as he did on the one about his first birth, which put the blog in the spotlight in the first place. He wakes up the next day to a flooded inbox, about equally divided between shock at their accents (as if he hadn't already mentioned growing up in the South), and comments on their appearance. He figures that would make him more uncomfortable if he didn't already have a full profile at a fertility agency describing his physical attributes and flaws in precise detail.

There are a few comments that make him bristle, though. Not the ones directed at him, but the ones about Rhett. Namely, the one from _omegaboiscotland_ asking, 'If Rhett's not your alpha, does that mean he's single? ;) WOOF.'

Link replies to that one, 'Rhett's always single when he goes out and taken when he comes home, if you know what I mean ;)' because he figures it's better to hint at Rhett's promiscuity than type in bold capital letters **BACK OFF BUDDY** , which is kind of what he wants to do.

His video posts start taking off after that, and Link finds it a lot more comfortable for certain topics to just sit in front of his computer and babble, so at least then he can blame spontaneity on his lack of eloquence.

By far the most popular videos, though, are the ones where Rhett joins him. In fact, the first one to get widely circulated happens when Link is about the size of a house, unwilling to even sit up long enough to speak to the camera properly, so he convinces Rhett to perform one of the songs he wrote for Link about his midnight cravings.

 _Mini-Wheats and Marshmallow Fluff_ is a hit, apparently. Literally all Link does in the video is introduce Rhett and bop his head along to the song, and he tries not to overanalyze the fact that his most popular video is the one that he barely speaks in, but either way, it gets his blog a lot of attention.

A few days after that entry blows up, Link gets a comment reading, 'please tell me i'm not the only one shipping link and rhett together. anyone with me on this?'

Link has to look up the term 'shipping'. He hasn't blushed that hard since his first heat.

He quietly deletes the comment, hoping Rhett didn't see it first.  


 

* * *

  

Just when it starts to feel like they've fallen into a routine, everything goes sideways.

Link's second birth goes as smoothly as his first, and he deals with the hormonal fallout even better than before. He takes a contract with a small tech firm not far from Rhett's work, so they carpool and eat greasy breakfast sandwiches every morning in Link's truck, which he refuses to sell even though he has money now. Rhett finds himself going out less than before, chalking it up to getting a little older and a little less energetic, though he knows that part of him just would rather stay in and let Link fall asleep on his shoulder in front of the television.

It's getting nice and comfortable, the weird little life they've made for themselves in California. Rhett should have expected the other shoe to drop.

Link's third contract falls through. He gets a call from his lawyer, informing him that the couple miraculously conceived. It's not an unheard of circumstance, and all it means is that Link will have to find another couple to avail of his services. It shouldn't be a big deal.

And it's not, until Rhett wakes up one morning to find a sweating, anxious Link on the couch in nothing but his underwear.

"Uh," Rhett says, freezing in his tracks when Link sits up to look at him. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I need you to smell me," Link says, holding his hand to his forehead.

"Anything in particular I'm looking for?" Rhett asks, approaching cautiously.

"Let's hope not," Link says, a little hysterically. "I started getting hot in the middle of the night, I want you to smell me and tell me if it's a heat or if I'm maybe just coming down with some really terrible flu or something."

"You can't tell just from… how you feel?" Rhett says, trying to be tactful.

"I don't know, right now I'm just freaking out," Link stands up and closes the distance between them, stopping inches from Rhett and tilting his head to the side in a way that, if Link weren't so anxious, would have made Rhett's vision blur.

Hesitantly, he bends his head so his nose is almost brushing Link's skin, and takes a deep breath.

Which is probably a mistake.

"Oh," he says, stepping back. "Yeah, uh, yeah, bo, I think you're in heat." He busies himself with the coffee maker like it's his job, trying to normalize his heart rate by sheer force of will.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," Link says behind him, so sharply that Rhett has to glance back at him. Link curses so rarely, he can't help but pay attention when it happens.

"I mean, it's okay, right? That new couple can wait another month so all the paperwork's done?"

Link slides onto a kitchen chair, still feeling his forehead like his temperature might have somehow dropped in the last twenty seconds. "It's not that, it's just… the one after pregnancy is supposed to be really intense if you're not getting knocked up again and it's been so long since I went through it on my own, I'm just. I'm freaked, okay?"

Rhett's heart breaks for him, sitting there in his underwear biting his fingernails, practically vibrating with anxiety. Rhett quickly cycles through all of the possible actions he could take to somehow make this easier on Link, but he comes up empty.

"Um, do you like, want me to stay home from work today? So you won't have to be alone?"

Link looks up from his nails and locks eyes with Rhett, and Rhett could swear there's a moment where he hesitates, where he almost says yes, but then he shakes his head vehemently. "Go to work, no reason you should have to suffer too."

Reluctantly, Rhett does as commanded. He makes Link promise to call him if he needs anything at all, and he heads off to work, where he gets none of his already incredibly light workload done. At lunch, he stays by his desk and eats the bag of chips from the back of his drawer, reluctant to stray too far from the phone, just in case Link needs him.

He leaves work a half hour early, feeding his supervisor a line about needing to make it to an appointment and beat rush hour traffic, but really he just wants to stop at the store on his way home. Link wasn't prepared for this heat to hit so soon, which means the food in their apartment is limited to some canned tomato soup and a shelf full of hot sauce. Rhett buys an entire case of Gatorade and way too many protein bars, but at least he feels like he's done something helpful.

The scent of Link's heat hits him like a freight train when he opens the apartment door. He has to lean against the door frame to stay steady and keep from dropping about ten gallons of Gatorade on his foot.

He's never been so close to Link so far into a heat, never. He always made sure to steer well clear of their place when this happened in college, and now he knows he made the right decision.

Shakily, he puts the stuff on the counter and tries to gather his wits. He'll leave the supplies outside Link's door, let him know where he's going, and then get the hell out of the apartment and find someone pretty to focus on. It's worked for years, it's his tried and tested avoidance plan.

Trying not to breathe through his nose, Rhett tears the wrapping off the case of drinks and rips open one of the boxes of protein bars, so Link doesn't have to wrestle with the packaging too much when he goes to get it.

Rhett swears he can taste the scent as he approaches Link's door, gritting his teeth when he hears hoarse little whimpers and ragged breathing on the other side, with a faint buzzing that he does his best to avoid thinking about. He puts the stuff down, and hesitates just for a second before he knocks, softly.

"Hey buddyroll, I got you some sustenance," he says, tilting his head towards the door to hear a reply. When none comes, he continues, "I'm gonna head out to Konfusion, okay? I… I won't have a sleepover tonight, promise. I'll be back in a few hours."

He listens again; Link has gone quiet, which must mean he's listening, but he doesn't respond. Rhett hesitates for another beat, then turns to leave.

He's not two steps away when he hears Link's voice, rough and tired and shaking.

"Rhett."

Rhett freezes, a shiver traveling up his spine at the sound. He's about to respond when Link continues, stronger now, clearer.

"Rhett, I need you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, everyone: the rating is now NC-17 and this chapter is about to prove why.

There are times in one's life where a single moment seems to stretch into oblivion. It happened when Rhett accidentally called their history teacher Mommy in the seventh grade, it happened when he asked Lana Farrell to the prom in front of her snotty friends, and it's happening right now.

Approximately half of him wants to burst through Link's bedroom door and throw himself on top of him and tell him that he'll give him anything he needs, today and tomorrow and forever. The other half is rooted to the spot, terrified that he might misinterpret Link's words.

After several deep, steadying breaths, he steps back towards Link's door.

"I'm here, bo, what can I do?" he says, voice shaking at every word.

Link lets out a sound, a broken, desperate sob that has Rhett's heart shattering. "I can't do this," he whimpers, "It hurts so bad, Rhett, please don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," Rhett tells him, leaning his forehead against the door. He's willing to stand here all night if that's what Link wants.

For a minute or so, that's all that happens. Rhett grips the doorframe so hard he's afraid it'll crack as he listens to Link gasp and moan, emphasized by a constant low hum that Rhett is still trying not to think about.

Letting out a frustrated noise, Link calls to him again. "Can-- can you just-- I need you to come in here, Rhett, I'm sorry, I need--"

He's not even finished the sentence before Rhett is bursting through his bedroom door.

For all Rhett's fantasized about a moment just like this one, he's wholly unprepared for the sight that greets him.

Link is naked and shining with sweat, flushed down to his chest, hair sticking to his forehead. Most of the bedclothes are strewn across the floor save for one pillow that Link is holding in a death grip, knuckles white. His back is bowed off the mattress and his toes are curled, while his legs are splayed about as wide as they could ever be over a damp spot on the only sheet that's left on the bed. Between Link's thighs is the source of the noise that Rhett was trying so hard to ignore; a pink vibrator, pushed to the hilt into Link's ass, buzzing away.

"Oh gosh," Link gasps, his eyes finally focusing on Rhett, "Oh gosh, Rhett, I'm sorry, I can't do it by myself."

Rhett takes a step towards the bed, digging his nails into his palms. "You want me to..."

Link looks like he's on the verge of tears. "Just-- just lie down here with me? Please?"

For all that Rhett wants to pounce, his brain fuzzy with the scent of Link's heat, he feels like he's moving in slow motion as he sheds his shoes and crawls onto the bed. He reaches out a hand, bringing it up to rest on Link's chest, hesitantly.

Link is having none of that. A split second after Rhett's fingers come in contact with his overheated skin, Link is rolling towards him, gasping, burying his face into Rhett's collar.

"Soon as you walked in I could smell you," he's mumbling, fingers curling into Rhett's shirt. "I couldn't let you leave me, I'm sorry, Rhett, I'm--"

"Hey, hey," Rhett shushes, running a hand down Link's spine and feeling him arch his back in response. "It's okay, just tell me what you need."

Link whines, his fingers fumbling at Rhett's buttons. "Can-- can you take this off?"

"Yeah, yes," Rhett says, breathlessly, pulling the buttons open one-handed and then, frustrated at the mechanics of it all, ripping the last two off the shirt completely. He's about to pull it off his shoulders when Link moves back in, pressing his face into Rhett's chest and eliminating Rhett's ability to do anything but curl his arms around Link's body.

"Nothing's helping," Link sobs, nuzzling Rhett's skin like a kitten, "It's never hurt like this before, I don't know what to _do_."

"It's gonna be okay, brother, I'm gonna--" Rhett's voice dies as he realizes that Link is grinding against him, the hard line of Link's cock pressing into his hip. "I'm gonna help," he continues, trailing his hand down to the small of Link's back and applying gentle pressure, just enough to let Link know he doesn't have to stop.

Link's breath catches as he parts his lips and presses his mouth against Rhett's throat. His whole body tenses in Rhett's arms and Rhett feels wetness blooming on his pants as Link comes, suddenly and without fanfare.

"Oh," Link gasps, hips still twitching, "Oh shit, Rhett, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, even as he presses them closer together.

"Stop apologizing," Rhett whispers, proud that he can form any words at all, with his nose buried into Link's damp hair and his skin burning at every point of contact. He's so hard it almost hurts, but that thought comes with a pang of guilt, because Link's been in pain like this for hours.

"I don't--" Link grunts, one hand reaching between his legs, "This thing sucks, feels like nothin'."

Rhett grits his teeth as Link grapples with the thing he has inside him, groaning in frustration when his slick fingers can't find purchase.

"Okay, okay," Rhett soothes, reaching down. He can feel his hand shaking as he trails his fingers across Link's ass and finds his opening, stretched across the buzzing plastic toy, hot and slick. Rhett manages to grip the base of the thing and slide it out, carefully, slowly, until it comes free. He tosses it away across the mattress as Link's leg comes up to wrap around him.

"No, no, don't like that, it feels _empty_ now," he cries, fingers curling against Rhett's sides.

Without hesitation, Rhett finds himself pressing two fingers into Link's hole, his thoughts solely focused on making Link as comfortable as possible.

Link lets out a moan the likes of which Rhett has only heard in his fantasies. "Ohh gosh, Rhett, _oh_." His back bows into an impossible shape as he presses back into the intrusion, a sudden rush of slick soaking Rhett's hand.

Rhett is dizzy, near out of his mind with the scent of it, but determined to keep his head. That little instinct-driven voice in his head is screaming at him to press Link into the bed, push his legs open and mount him, but he can't let that voice take control, not while Link is in this state, not while he's this vulnerable.

"Whatever you need," he murmurs into Link's hair, pressing his fingers in as far as he can manage, "I'm here."

Link rocks back against Rhett's hand, breathing in harsh pants. "You've got nice fingers," he says, practically slurring.

"Yeah? It's good?" Rhett asks, breathing in gulps of Link's scent, trying to commit it to memory in case he never gets this close again.

"Mmm," Link moans, nodding. "Can you… give me another?"

"Yeah, bo, of course," Rhett says, tucking a third finger alongside the first two and sliding them all back inside, Link's body accepting the intrusion like he was made for it.

Rhett barely has to do anything, with Link rocking back against his hand and mouthing at his chest, Rhett just lets him take what he needs. Every press of Link's hips against his own is near torture; he's so hard his pants are feeling considerably tighter than they should, but this isn't about him, he's just here to help, he's here to make sure Link gets through this with his sanity intact.

His internal mantra is cut off suddenly when he feels Link's hand squirming between them, groping to feel the outline of Rhett's dick, straining against the zip of his trousers.

"Link," he breathes, hips twitching forward of their own accord, chasing the pressure.

" _Yeah_ ," is Link's strained reply, fingers curling like he's going to try to jack Rhett off through his pants.

"Hang on, let me--" Rhett says, fumbling one-handed with his belt in the very limited space that Link is leaving between them. Link eventually catches on and aids the process somewhat, at least until Rhett's zip is down, when he plunges his hand into Rhett's boxers and his whole body shudders.

Rhett has the presence of mind to feel his cheeks flushing hot when Link's fingers find their way around him and his breath catches against Rhett's throat as he breathes out a soft " _Wow_." At the same time, he cants his hips back again to meet Rhett's fingers and clenches hot around them. Rhett's brain practically short circuits imagining just what Link is thinking about right now.

Rhett's head is swimming, reason and restraint getting further and further away the longer he spends here, breathing in lungfuls of Link's scent, Link's hand wrapped around him, Link's mouth on his skin. He knows that part of what he's feeling is pure instinct, just his alpha brain responding to an omega in heat who wants him, but it's amplified a thousandfold because it's _Link_.

He barely registers Link shoving his boxers down until he's hitching his leg up onto Rhett's hip and moving like he's trying to push Rhett onto his back.

"Hey," Rhett says, doing his best to roll without pulling his fingers out. Link hums, his knees sliding up until he's more or less straddling Rhett's hips, keening against Rhett's neck, his body tensing. Rhett brings his free hand up to thread through Link's hair. "What's up, brother?"

Groaning in frustration, Link raises his head. "You gonna make me say it?" his hips twitch forward, pressing down against Rhett's dick with intent.

Rhett lets out a shaky breath. "Do you…" he licks his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

" _Please_ ," Link moans, and Rhett feels it as much as he hears it.

"Okay," Rhett says, carefully pulling his fingers out of Link's hole, his heart breaking at the noise Link makes when they slip free. "I've got condoms in my room, you've gotta let me up."

Link lifts his head from Rhett's chest, biting his lip. "I don't wanna."

Rhett blinks at him. "Well I've been working on my telekinesis, but it's not quite at that level yet," he says, quirking his lips up in a small smile. "I'll be two seconds, I promise."

Link ducks his head. "No, I just don't want…" he trails off, not meeting Rhett's eyes.

A wave of realization crashes over Rhett, and he feels his fingers tighten against Link's hips. "We gotta use a condom, Link."

"I _know_ ," Link groans, angling his hips so he can grind against Rhett's dick. "Just don't want to."

Rhett arches his back without even thinking, and he'll never be as proud of himself as he is when he manages to stop himself from responding _Me either_ to that statement.

"Two seconds," he says, easing Link off his lap and slinging his legs off the bed. "I'll be right back."

"Wait," Link says as Rhett stands, wrestling with his pants to avoid falling on his face. A hand reaches out and grabs his wrist, forcing him to turn around. Link is up on his knees, doing his best to pull Rhett back down to the mattress.

"You know, the faster you let me leave--" Rhett is cut off when Link slides his hand around Rhett's neck and pulls him down into a kiss -- their first kiss, he realizes with a thrill.

A growl rumbles up from his chest, completely unbidden, and he finds himself wrapping his arms around Link's back, pressing them together as Link whimpers against his mouth. His tongue is soft but insistent, darting out against Rhett's lips before plunging between them. It's messy and desperate and nothing like what Rhett imagined it would be, but it's incredible.

Breathless, he pulls away, his resolve nearly crumbling when he sees Link's face, lips parted, eyes heavy lidded and looking dazed, tongue chasing Rhett's taste on his mouth.

"I'll be right back," he says, extricating himself from Link's arms. Just the simple act of walking away from Link in this state is killing him; he's across the hall and tearing open his nightstand drawer in seconds.

He hesitates for half a moment, internally debating whether he's going to be presumptuous enough to return to Link with an entire box of condoms in hand. The thought of having to walk away from him in the event that they need another one is what decides it.

He sheds his clothes while he's still in his own bedroom, far enough away from Link's scent for coherent thoughts to return to his brain. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he turns to leave, shocked to see that he looks nearly as worked up as Link does.

Back across the hall, Link is a sight to behold. Splayed out on his back again, he's working two fingers into himself, brow furrowed in pained concentration.

"Shit," Rhett whispers as Link's eyes focus on him.

"Dang, Rhett," Link says hoarsely, his gaze traveling down, "Congratulations on your dick."

Rhett feels his cheeks get impossibly hotter. "I've uh… never had any complaints."

Link nods, throwing his head back against the mattress again, the muscles in his arm straining as he tries to dig his fingers deeper into himself. "I would really like it inside me now, please."

That's not the kind of request Rhett has ever said no to.

He's back on the bed in a flash, crawling up between Link's legs and replacing Link's fingers with his own.

"Just tell me when you're ready," he murmurs, trailing kisses down Link's neck and breathing in his scent, getting high on it.

"What?" Link says, breathlessly, tilting his head to the side to give Rhett access.

"... for me, tell me when you're ready for me," Rhett says, adding a third finger as Link bears down against him.

"Are you kidding?" Link squeaks, "Dude, I've been using that vibrator for like eight freaking hours, I've been ready since before you got home."

Rhett lets out a long, shuddering breath against Link's skin. Link digs his fingers into Rhett's shoulders, hitching his legs up and locking them around Rhett's hips.

"C'mon, bo," he whispers, hot breath across the shell of Rhett's ear, making him shiver. "I need it so bad, I need your _knot_."

His back bows off the bed as Rhett pulls his fingers out, and Rhett barely has room to get the condom on himself with Link already grinding against him. With the head of his cock pressed against Link's hole, he bites his lip, silencing the voice inside that wants to ask for further confirmation that Link does, in fact, want this. Even with Link's scent all around him and every inch of his overheated skin within reach, it doesn't feel real.

"Mmmm _yeah_ ," Link moans, a long-drawn out sound, as Rhett pushes inside him as slowly and carefully as he can manage, given the circumstances. Link has the look of a man dying of thirst finally getting a drink, and Rhett wants to growl at the thrill of being the one who gets to give it to him.

Link is so slick and tight and responsive, Rhett is pretty sure he's ruined for all other forms of sex, just from the feeling of bottoming out inside Link's ass, feeling him clench hot around his length, his body already undulating, begging for movement.

"I think you're gonna kill me," Rhett rasps, rolling his hips and drinking in the sight of Link gasping, shaking, falling apart before his eyes just from the feeling of Rhett's cock inside him.

Tense with the effort of keeping himself in control, Rhett starts to move, meeting the rhythmic roll of Link's hips with his own thrusts. He's so out of his mind he thinks he might be experiencing sympathy heat, which must be a thing, right? He's never been so desperate to knot someone in his life, he needs it more than air, which is in short supply in this room anyway.

With a hand on the back of Rhett's head, Link pulls him down for a kiss that's more of a smashing together of mouths while panting than anything else. "Feels so good, feels _big_ ," Link moans against his lips.

Rhett gives a sharp thrust, a completely involuntary response. "Yeah?" he says, his senses fraying to the point where he can't control his mouth anymore.

"Mmm," Link nods, throwing his head back, "Gonna have to invest in some new toys to live up to you, brother."

Rhett hears himself let out an honest-to-God growl then, the alpha in his head preening in satisfaction. Lifting his weight up onto his hands, he shoves forward, nearly pushing Link up the bed.

" _Yeah_ , yeah, like that," Link says, hands finding Rhett's ass and urging him forward, "Harder, c'mon, you're not gonna hurt me."

Something snaps in Rhett's brain then, all that restraint, all that control he's spent the past ten years carefully building, is forgotten. He's nothing but a body, an alpha with an omega underneath him. The sound Link lets out when Rhett starts moving in earnest is almost animal, certainly nothing close to a word. He winds up with his arms above his head, bracing himself against the headboard just so Rhett doesn't put him through it.

Link seems to notice Rhett's knot swelling even before Rhett does, letting out a groan and clenching around him, gasping, "Fuck, _yes_ ," and using his leverage against the headboard to meet Rhett's thrusts.

There's nothing but screaming white noise in Rhett's head as he feels their bodies lock together, giving a last few hard, deep thrusts before he comes, collapsing down on top of Link and wailing into his neck. His hips move of their own accord, little twitches that make his knot tug at Link's rim, but Link doesn't appear to have any objections.

"Wish I could feel it," Link sighs, though he sounds content for the first time since Rhett got home. "Condoms are the worst."

Rhett is grateful for his knot tying them together, because if he could pull out and rip the condom off himself at that moment, he probably would. He knows Link isn't thinking straight, he knows it's just his body talking, a body that wants more than anything right now to have its heat quenched in the most efficient way possible. Link's never experienced sex with a condom involved before now, it must feel like something's missing.

With shaking arms, Rhett brings himself up onto his elbows, glancing down between them. Link is still hard. "You didn't…"

"What?" Link follows his gaze, then shrugs. "S'fine, I probably came twice while you were fucking me."

"Well," Rhett reaches down, running his fingers through the pool of come on Link's belly, "Third time's the charm?"

He wraps his hand around Link's cock, moaning a little when Link clenches on his knot. It doesn't take much, just a few quick flicks of his wrist before Link is coming again, shuddering from head to toe, letting out an exhausted whimper.

"Thanks, bo," he drawls, voice rough with sleep, eyes beginning to close.

"Anytime," Rhett says, kissing his cheek. He maneuvers himself so he's holding most of his own weight on his arm, careful not to move too much and make his knot tug against Link's hole again. "You wanna sleep?"

"Hmmm," is Link's only response.

Rhett smiles, brushing Link's sweat-damp hair off his forehead.

He only feels the tiniest bit creepy watching Link sleep. After all, it's not like he can go anywhere; they're tied together for at least the next twenty minutes, maybe longer. Rhett's record is half an hour, and that was just with some random alpha chick he picked up at a bar. He doesn't think his body is ever going to want to part itself from Link.

He might doze off himself for a minute or two, but his adrenaline is still coursing, and every time he opens his eyes and sees Link's face he feels a shiver of excitement. The scent of Link's heat is still thick in the air, blurring his thoughts enough to keep any hints of doubt well at bay. It's not even close to over yet.

The next few hours pass in a blissful, surreal haze of orgasms and short but necessary catnaps. Link sleeps, stirs when Rhett's knot slips out of him, and immediately starts clawing at him again. Rhett is now absolutely convinced that he'll never be able to enjoy sex with anyone else, not after seeing Link's face when he comes for what has to be the fifteenth time in one night, not now that he knows exactly what Link sounds like when a knot swells inside him. Rhett will never again be able to close his eyes without seeing the image of Link straddling his hips and fucking himself so hard on Rhett's dick he thought the bedframe might collapse. He may never recover from hearing Link moan the words, "I've never been fucked like this before," straight into his ear.

By the time Rhett thinks to glance at Link's alarm clock, it's nearly midnight. Link is asleep, breathing deep and even, content to have Rhett at his back and, more importantly, Rhett's knot inside him. Rhett doesn't know how he's doing this, how he's managed it on his own all these years; he's clearly exhausted, he can hardly sit up, but his skin is still burning and he still smells like pure need. Rhett's been pushing bottles of Gatorade into his hand at every opportunity, but it hardly seems like enough.

With Rhett's knot starting to go down, Link is getting restless again. Without waking, he reaches back to paw at Rhett's thigh. He lets out a tiny, distressed sound.

"Shhh," Rhett hushes, pressing a kiss behind his ear. He needs sleep, but Rhett knows it's a losing battle.

Link starts squirming as Rhett begins to slip out of him, his body drawing up tight.

"Rhett," he mumbles, slurring through the haze of sleep.

"I'm here," Rhett whispers, tightening the arm around Link's waist.

Link lets out a whine, turning his face into the pillow. "M'still hot," he says, muffled. "Wish you could just put a baby in me."

Rhett freezes.

He has to literally bite down on his tongue to stop himself from saying something incredibly stupid like _Me too_ or _Maybe I can_ or _Whoops, looks like we're out of condoms_.

He doesn't say any of those things, but he finds himself unable to say anything else, either. Finally, Link twists his head around to look at him, apparently blissfully unaware of the fact that he just gave Rhett an aneurysm.

"You up for another round?"

Rhett isn't sure he trusts himself to fuck Link again right now, but an idea springs to mind that could serve the dual purpose of satisfying Link while also keeping Rhett's mouth occupied enough to prevent him from saying anything truly boneheaded.

"You're sore," he says, punctuated by Link's small cry as Rhett's dick slips from his hole, "Lie on your front, okay?"

Link nods, rolling onto his stomach and tucking his arms up under the pillow.

Rhett could spend hours worshiping Link's skin, pressing kisses down his back, grazing his teeth over the jutting shoulder blades. He indulges himself a little, taking time to trail his tongue down Link's spine, pausing to lick over the sweet little dimples at the top of Link's ass, practically purring with delight when Link squirms and moans at the sensation.

Link's breath quickens when Rhett trails his hands down over his ass, using his thumbs to dip between his cheeks and press them apart, exposing his opening. There's a strange mix of guilt and pride that washes over Rhett when he looks at Link's hole, wet and red and clenching on nothing, a drop of slick slipping out as Rhett watches.

"Let me know if this is okay," he says to Link before leaning in and flicking his tongue out to catch that little drop before it's gone. He's not sure who moans louder at that moment.

"Oh gosh," Link says, high and breathy.

"Does it feel good?" Rhett asks, going back in for another lick, this time pressing the tip of his tongue right against Link's hole, just to give him a little more information to formulate an answer.

"Really-- really good," Link whispers, voice shaking.

That's all the encouragement Rhett needs. He grabs a spare pillow and places it under Link's hips so he's comfortable, and then he gets to work.

Rhett's got a small mouth, okay, so he's not always awesome at giving blowjobs, but he'll eat his partner out until they're crying, and then go back in for more. He's proud of this skill, he knows just how to use his pointed little tongue to flick and tease, to plunge inside when they start to beg. It's one of his absolute favorite things to do.

So he can count this on the growing list of things that will never be the same again.

The noises Link makes while Rhett is licking at his hole are downright life-ruining. These sweet, high, breathless whines, little whimpers muffled into the pillow, unintelligible words mixed with Rhett's name, over and over. Rhett would swear he was in pain if he didn't have the evidence of Link's pleasure smeared across his lips.

"You taste _so good_ , Link," he rasps out when he comes up for air, feeling nearly as out of it as Link sounds. He licks a wet stripe up Link's perineum and over his hole and Link positively sobs, his whole body quaking.

Rhett can feel Link clenching against his tongue, can feel his body drawing up tight as a drum, and he doubles down on his efforts. He's always loved doing this, but with Link, he's pretty sure he could keep going until one or both of them literally died.

He eventually has to grip Link's hips to keep them still, because for all he likes the concept of Link fucking himself on Rhett's tongue, the resultant broken nose would probably ruin the mood. Link whimpers when Rhett stills him, pressing his tongue into Link's hole as far as it can go as a sort of apology.

When Link finally comes, it's with a rush of slick on Rhett's tongue while his hips grind helplessly down against the pillow. He wails, one flailing hand reaching back and holding Rhett's head in place against him, which might be one of the hottest things Rhett has ever experienced in his life.

He keeps flicking his tongue up and down over Link's twitching hole until Link's sobs take on a plaintive note.

"Oh gosh, oh man," Link babbles as Rhett climbs back up his body, perching on his elbow and smiling at Link's flushed face. Link turns onto his side, swiping the back of his hand over his eyes. "I think you made me cry… Dang, brother, where'd you learn how to do that?"

Rhett smirks, hoping that doesn't need an answer. "C'mere," he says, pulling Link close to him. Link snuggles into his chest like a kitten, sighing contentedly.

The next time Rhett opens his eyes, the clock on Link's bedside table tells him it's three in the morning. Link is still in his arms, squirming a little.

"You're awake," he whispers, pressing a kiss to Rhett's chin.

"Mmm, did you sleep?" Rhett asks, smoothing his hand down Link's back. He's still warm, but not burning up like earlier in the night.

"A little," Link says, "My heat's breaking, I think."

Rhett hums, trying to push down the disappointment he feels at the thought of this night ending. He feels Link wriggling against him, hitching his hips forward.

"Uh," he says, smiling up at Rhett, "Breaking, but not broken."

Sliding his hand down and palming Link's ass, Rhett grins. "I think I've got one more round in me."

They end up on their sides, Rhett tucked up against Link's back, because neither of them really have the energy for a more strenuous position at this point. Link is quieter, not as desperate, tiny gasps escaping him as he lets Rhett set the pace for the first time all night.

Rhett draws it out as long as he can. His body is tired, drained, but he'd still keep going forever if he thought Link would let him. He presses soft kisses against Link's neck, his shoulders. He lets himself leave the tiniest mark on the point of Link's collarbone and the alpha in him purrs with contentment.

Link comes first, into Rhett's coaxing hand, his body coiling like a spring before releasing, all the tension draining out of him like someone pulled a plug.

Knotting Link this last time feels just as earth-shatteringly incredible as the first time he did it. He thinks he can actually feel Link's skin cooling beneath his hands as his knot swells, locking them together.

"So good," Link sighs, pulling Rhett's arm tighter around him. "I love you, brother."

Rhett swallows hard, pressing his forehead against the nape of Link's neck.

"I love you too, Link."

 

* * *

 

 

Link’s been meticulous about his life choices ever since he decided to become a licensed breeder.

He's never really dated anyone for long since he honestly can't tell when someone is interested in him for _him_ as opposed to his omega-ness. Also, it's a little weird getting knocked up for a living and trying to have a normal dating life. And Link is, above all, a businessman about his body. Treating it right is top priority, stressing about random people with whom he isn’t signing breeding contracts being attracted to it and for what reasons...not so much. Pleasing the client is what he’s here for, it gives him an okay sex life with no strings attached and he never has to worry about any of the weird emotional stuff.

He just never once thought about what he'd do if a contract fell through.

And now that he’s had to experience it, the next order of business is making sure he’s never caught in a situation like that again. Ever.

Omega bodies are built for fertility, so multiple pregnancies don't take their toll on them they way they would on most people, but Link is fairly sure that having to struggle through multiple heats all by himself might literally be the death of him. He barely handled it through college, and now that he's so used to being knotted and mated all through his heats, he doesn't think he can ever go back.

Besides, if this ever happens again, it's not fair to just assume Rhett will be there to take care of him. No matter how good he felt inside him, no matter how safe and happy Link felt when he drifted off wrapped in his scent and his arms. It’s not fair to pile that much pressure on Rhett; Link refuses to entertain the thought no matter how enticingly it dances through his subconscious.

Link isn’t sure what time it is when he starts coming back to himself. There’s sunlight streaming in through his windows and his stomach is growling like nobody’s business, so at the earliest it’s around noon. He’s covered in sweat and assorted other heat-related loveliness, and there’s a telling ache in seemingly every muscle in his body, but his skin just feels slightly overheated instead of death-defyingly overheated. In his experience, that means he’s officially coming back to normal.

Beside him, the bed is empty. Link rolls into the cool patch without even thinking, ready to curl up for another couple of hours, then suddenly jolts himself awake.

_Rhett isn’t there._

Rhett might have had a freakout or a breakdown or packed his things in the night to move someplace with a non-omega roommate who won’t ever shove such insane responsibilities into his face.

Link has himself on the verge of a panic attack before he registers the smell of pancakes.

It takes almost all his willpower and concentration, but he manages to stagger into the bathroom and perform some rudimentary hygienic necessities. The nearest article of clothing happens to be Rhett’s robe, so he shrugs it on without really thinking about it. The alternative is wandering around wrapped in a sheet, which is just too potentially hazardous to risk. Putting on actual clothes after a heat has never been Link’s forte; he can’t handle that kind of complexity and the sensory overload on his still-tingling skin is just too much.

Now that he’s more or less emerged from the haze of his heat, his memory's kind of fuzzy, but he knows himself. He knows the kinds of things that go through his head during a heat and how little of a brain-to-mouth filter he has. Link _knows_ he was wailing and whimpering all kinds of things, that's just how he gets when he's with an alpha who's taking care of him, and no one takes care of him quite like Rhett. He's pretty sure there were curses and pleas and declarations of love and God knows what else falling out of his mouth.

If he were Rhett, he'd definitely be a little weirded out right now.

He’s clutching his phone in one hand when he wanders into the kitchen, already prepared to get the agency on speed dial so he can schedule something for his next heat. "Hey, bo. Sorry if I weirded you out with... some of that stuff I said."

Rhett just gives him a tiny smile.  “How many pancakes can I get you?”

Link flails in what he hopes is a coherent manner. Rhett obligingly slides a plate his way.

"I, ah, I'll make sure that doesn't happen again, buddy, I swear," he promises, then shoves half a pancake into his mouth.

He's still sore and achy and wants nothing more than to crawl into Rhett's arms again and spend the day entangled on the couch, but he stubbornly inhales the rest of his pancake and chalks up his neediness to residual heat hormones. He just can't stop thinking about how _good_ Rhett was at helping him through his heat, at giving him everything he needed and then some, even though he could just as easily have left Link to suffer alone. Link has to mentally slap himself a few times to stop lingering on those thoughts. After a heat contract, he’s normally kind of clingy, but this is different because it’s _Rhett_. Rhett’s not some one-off he has a contract with, Rhett is basically one half of everything that makes up Link’s life, and if Link makes that weird he’ll never forgive himself for it.

"You're...oh gosh, you're still seeing that beta guy, aren't you?" he blurts out, since Rhett is being unusually quiet and in Link's book that means something's a little off. Normally they laugh and banter through breakfast and if anyone's quiet it's Link, at least until he gets some coffee in him. Now, though, the food in his mouth seems to turn to dust and he can barely force it down. "Oh crap, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cheat." That has to be what's going on here, he's become an accidental wrench in the works.

“‘s okay,” Rhett mumbles around a mouthful of blueberries. “We were kinda off-and-on anyway.”

“Seriously?” Link squints at him. Rhett still doesn’t seem like himself, but in all fairness Link’s never exactly himself again after a heat either.

“Yeah,” says Rhett, like it’s no big deal. “Eat more, man, you’ve gotta replenish.”

Link still isn’t used to how casual Rhett is about his relationships, but he seems perfectly happy with his freewheeling bachelor lifestyle. Link can respect that, even if he doesn’t totally get it. Either way, Link’s not about to ruin their lifelong friendship by suddenly turning into a stereotypical needy omega.

And, selfishly, Link's glad Rhett doesn't seem to be in any rush to find a mate and settle down with them. Because then they wouldn't get to be together as much as they are, and Link doesn't like to think about that. They've always been together. Link genuinely can't think about things like this for long because it makes him anxious, the way he used to feel in school when he thought about Rhett making cool friends and moving on from him.

Rhett getting married would be like him making the _ultimate_ cool friend and moving on.

Link's pretty sure he'll retire from breeding whenever Rhett gets married, because he can't imagine doing it without Rhett’s support. How the heck is he supposed to handle things without Rhett to listen to him complain about his swollen ankles, or to give him shoulder rubs, or to make fun of him when he suddenly craves fish sticks with garlic salt? And even worse, what happens when Rhett moves on and Link ends up unconsciously looking for a Rhett substitute and ends up alone forever? He's always had Rhett, what if he keeps comparing every alpha he meets to everything Rhett means to him and finding they come up short?

“We gotta turn on some music or something,” he mutters into his eggs. “I’m thinkin’ way too much right now.”

Rhett still isn’t talking, but he also seems to have about four pancakes in his mouth at once. He does, however, start tapping out a rhythm on the table and humming a few bars of something Link doesn’t recognize right away. The second he realizes it’s “Working Man Blues,” he hops up--carefully--to snag his laptop from the other room in order to pull up the real thing on iTunes.

It’s amazing how simple the world seems when he’s harmonizing with Rhett while belting out Merle Haggard into a spoon.

During the instrumental interlude, Link stops and sputters, “Holy crap, I really _could_ drink a little beer in the tavern.” He’s not used to having a heat that doesn’t come with dietary restrictions attached.

“You sayin’ we should commemorate this occasion?” Rhett looks amused, which makes Link’s heart do a little two-step.

“I’m saying it’s Saturday and I don’t have a baby to worry about. If I thought I could make it to a tavern, this might actually be in the cards.”

“So what you’re really saying is you’re gonna curl up on the couch all day and drink like half a Heineken.”

Link beams at him. “It’s like you can read my thoughts or something.”

It’s a good thing Rhett isn’t actually telepathic because, deep in the back of Link’s mind, he’s still paging through his mental rolodex of anxieties. Rhett's known him so long and seen him in so many awkward situations, but this one shatters the record by a mile. And on top of that, he's sure knot-it-all Rhett has been with dozens of people who are much better at sex than he is. Link might be the one who gets pregnant for a living, but Rhett's the one who gets around. He just can’t comfortably settle on whether it’s a relief or a disappointment that Rhett probably won't think about this very much at all once the residual weirdness fades.

Rhett must be turning over a few anxious thoughts of his own because suddenly he’s fixing Link with those huge eyes of his and asking, “You, ah, you’re not gonna blog about this, are you?”

There’s a beat where the only sound is Merle’s forlorn twang coming from Link’s laptop.

And Link wasn’t planning on it, but he’s a little hurt anyway for reasons he can’t divine. “What? Nah, I don’t blog about the dirty details, you know that.”

He _does_ kind of want to tell the blogosphere about his first time sleeping with someone he hasn't signed reams of paperwork with prior to doing so, but he prides himself on keeping his blog informative without being tawdry. Besides, even leaving Rhett’s name out of it, it just wouldn’t feel right. Like he was cheapening the experience somehow.

But if he _did_ blog about tawdry things, he would want the whole world to know how good Rhett was at taking care of him on a moment’s notice. In some alternate universe, some alternate version of Link is writing some alternate blog about how Rhett knew just when to stop when Link started getting oversensitive. How he knew when Link needed a few fingers inside him again before Link could even articulate it. How loudly he made Link moaned when he licked down his spine and made him come just from the flicker of his tongue against Link's slick, knot-sensitive hole. Link's not sheltered anymore, he knew rimming was a _thing_ , but he never considered it as a thing he'd ever experience. After all, people don't get pregnant via tongue-fucking. North Carolina didn't have any sex ed to speak of, but Link knew _that_ much long before they made it to California.

And now he's blushing so hard he doesn't dare look up from his plate.

There are just too many memories resurfacing, flickering into his consciousness like stars appearing from behind wisps of cloud.

He remembers rubbing his hot face against Rhett's shoulder and mumbling, "You feel so _good_ ," without opening his eyes, feeling the answering thrum of Rhett's laugh before hearing it. He remembers how he would sleep in fitful little catnaps, waking up with sharp breaths like he'd had a bad dream, and Rhett would just let him snuggle in close until he fell asleep again. He remembers waking up with a new surge of energy, dying to get his mouth all over Rhett's chest, suckling at his nipples and giggling when Rhett jolted from having his stomach stroked. And he remembers wrapping a hand around Rhett's cock and breathing, "can you put it in me again?" against his lips, undulating against him until he was barely aware what planet they were on.

Mostly, though, he remembers it was _fun_. Getting to soak up all the kisses and snuggles and really amazing orgasms and not having to anticipate the ensuing pregnancy was such a novel thing. Add in Rhett, who he loves like a brother and doesn’t hide anything from, and Link doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed himself this much during a heat. Even with the condoms, which he’s beyond grateful Rhett was smart enough to remember.

But no matter how much fun he had, there are more important things that need to be addressed. He has to make sure that Rhett knows he won't be put in that position again.

Link pushes his plate aside and grabs his laptop, partly to hide his flaming cheeks and partly so he can start scrolling through his applicant list. “I promise, next month this'll be a non-issue. I'm gonna lock down a new contract before dinnertime, just watch."

And Rhett gives Link the same tight smile he greeted him with earlier. “That’s great, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guessed it, it's because of our detailed discussion of exactly how we've decided omega anatomy works, complete with lovingly rendered visuals! Or is it?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait and thanks for your patience, folks! We should be back on track with our regular Monday updates now.

Rhett has to swear off dating and hookups for a few weeks after Link’s heat.

 

There are plenty of fish in the sea, sure, but there’s only one Link. And that’s the problem, that’s always been the problem. Nothing ever feels like it's going to measure up to that experience. Even the memories of Link's heat are better than actual sex with anyone else.

 

Rhett got enough jerkoff fodder to last him years just from that one night. Which, as far as he knows, is destined to be the _only_ night, so he damn well better make it last.

 

Link was so sweet and slick and smelled _delicious_ , Rhett just wanted to eat him. It was only natural to mouth his way down the curve of his ass and part him open so he could lick gently at him. Link had gasped out an, "oh gosh, what're you _doing?_ " that make Rhett suspect he'd never done this before, but he never received any actual confirmation.

 

He knots his fist countless times while fantasizing about Link shyly asking him to do it again, then holding his nice flexible legs open and coming all over his gorgeous little belly as Rhett eats him out.

 

There are nights where he wakes up grinding against his mattress to memories of Link clutching at the headboard, at his own hair, at Rhett's back while he knotted him. Where all the little sounds he made resonate in Rhett’s head like they’re happening again, all the times he whimpered for more, so uncensored and open.

 

And the way Link had sighed out an _I love you_ before he passed out with Rhett still tied tight inside him, stroking his hands over all the soft, flushed skin he could reach. Rhett replays that memory in particular a lot.

 

Link has been known to spout declarations of love in response to Rhett pouring him coffee, but this is something else.

 

Ever since that one night, he’s been moving through life with the continual feeling of a missing puzzle piece finally clicking into place. It’s the most agonizing mix of satisfying and awful. The competitive part of him wants to leap from rooftop to rooftop and crow _I was right_ because getting to be there for Link during a heat was every bit as incredible as he always imagined it would be. But the reality is, he can't crow about it to anyone.

 

Especially not Link.

 

Link just needed a friend to get him through a tough patch and would be super weirded out if Rhett got all overbearing alpha on him.

 

So instead, Rhett spends a lot of time jerking off with way too much lube, trying to remember the way it felt to have Link's slick all over him. He also skims way too many relationship advice forums and, during particularly low moments, actually considers posting to them.

 

_I fucked my best friend, who happens to be an omega breeder and my roommate, and I've also been in love with him since we were 13_

 

Typing the sentence alone is enough to make him groan and slam his laptop closed, forget actually posting it. He just can’t do it.

 

It's somehow worse that Link just twinkles through life as usual.

 

"Got things all lined up for next month, brother!" he announces one day, and Rhett can barely manage to flash him a thumbs up.

 

It turns out Link’s signed a contract with a nice couple of male alphas who are happy to let fate decide who becomes the father of their baby. Apparently, after last month, he’s determined to make his next heat as painless as possible. Two alphas vying to impregnate him should do the trick.

 

He announces this to Rhett, all smiles, and Rhett immediately pictures Link all gorgeous and debauched between two alphas. His life is terrible.

 

Rhett never meets the alphas Link has contracts with, which means he’s free to imagine that they're all Greek gods with perfect hair and probably great chins that never need concealing behind facial hair.

 

And despite all his resolve not to be an asshole alpha, he can’t help bristling at the thought of Link going through a heat with these perfect alpha specimens. What if Link compares the experience to their night together and decides his clients blow Rhett out of the water? Surely having a heat-fueled threesome wins everything just by default. Despite all the hookups he’s had, Rhett’s always been a serial monogamist. The one time he tried to have a threesome, it was almost three in the morning and everyone just ended up passing out. He’s willing to bet everything he owns that this won’t be the case for Link.

 

“You’ve gotta tell me how that goes, man,” he says, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible, throwing in a salacious eyebrow waggle just for the hell of it.

 

Link scrunches his nose at him, grins, and disappears into the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

It absolutely kills Rhett that Link is so close-mouthed about what happens during his heats.

 

He might share a couple details, like the couple configuration and a general physical description, especially when he’s speculating about what the baby might look like. But mostly, out of some combination of modesty and breeder-client confidentiality, he leaves a lot to the imagination. Which Rhett, silently aching for more, provides in abundance.

 

Even more so now that he’s experienced Link’s heat firsthand.

 

He tells himself to be grateful for what he gets. Link doesn’t share the filthy dirty details, but he doesn’t say _nothing_ either. They're so accustomed to sharing everything with each other it would be weird to have complete radio silence in this one area.

 

This time, though, things are a little different.

 

After his heat passes and Stevie drops Link off, he practically dive-bombs Rhett when he opens the door.

 

Link looks pleased and dazed and smells shower-fresh the way he always does after a heat, but this time he’s practically bouncing in place. Stevie, beside him, is staunchly poker-faced.

 

Rhett doesn’t have a chance to say a thing, barely has a chance to make eye contact with Stevie, before Link is spilling out a torrent of words.

 

"Okay, so you can’t talk about this but I...this is, like, confidential because of legal stuff, but I gotta tell you about it. This--this wasn't in the paperwork, but one of the alphas, he had a...a piercing in his...y'know." And then he can't even finish because he's blushing and giggling like he's never said the word _dick_ before, let alone been impregnated by them multiple times.

 

Rhett counts backwards from twenty and wonders what it feels like to have an aneurysm.

 

Stevie shoots him a high-eyebrowed “all good?” look over Link’s shoulder.

 

Normally Rhett would invite her in for a coffee, but that seems kind of awkward this time. Instead, he gives her a nod and a grimace and starts steering Link towards the living room. Stevie disappears without so much as a smirk and Rhett makes a mental note to buy her a gift card or a new car or something. He can only imagine what the drive home was like.

 

“Rhett!” Link says urgently. “Rhett, hey, did you hear me, man? I said he--he had a---” he breaks off in another fit of giggles.

 

And now Rhett is stuck there imagining Link writhing and moaning while impaled on some studly alpha's plump, gorgeous, _pierced_ cock while having his hair stroked and being told how perfect he is. Not that he's projecting at all. He just doesn't think anyone could impregnate Link without simultaneously telling him how perfect he was.

 

“Oh yeah, buddy, I heard you,” Rhett mutters, helping him lie down on the couch.

 

And Link, adorable oblivious Link, just rattles on, "He offered to take it out if I wanted him to, that was nice."

 

Which naturally has Rhett croaking, "So...did you want him to?" because he can't _not_ ask.

 

Link shakes his head so hard his recently acquired glasses slip down his nose. "Heck no, man, I wanted to get the full experience!"

 

He yawns and gingerly rubs the side of his neck, which is all pinked up. “And the other one was all beardy, that was fun too. Love a good beard, man."

 

And before Rhett has the chance to press him for more information, he’s snuggled into the cushions and fallen asleep.

 

Rhett slides off his glasses, folds an afghan over him, and seriously contemplates actually posting to a relationships forum.

 

* * *

 

Being an omega comes with a certain level of self-awareness. Especially when your best friend and roommate is an alpha.

 

After a breeding session, Link always showers and changes before he comes back home so Rhett doesn't have to deal with the smell of unfamiliar alphas all over him, just as a courtesy. His bro isn’t a caveman, but he does get a little on edge when he can smell another alpha in his space; the least Link can do is not exacerbate that. Rhett also tends to be little more touchy-feely once Link gets home from a session, which Link is completely fine with because he craves closeness and safety after a heat.

 

Also, he suspects Rhett has the ulterior motive of snuggling him until he’s made him smell right again. Which is more than okay. Rhett always kept his distance from Link when he had heats during college, so Link assumed it was too weird for him, but afterward he’d be just as tactile as Link.

 

During his previous pregnancies, Link’s caught himself getting more and more cuddly with Rhett just as an excuse revel in every moment of physical contact. It’s not his fault he melts every time Rhett wraps his arms around him, he just happens to have a weakness for good hugs and Rhett could teach a master class on hugging. Sometimes Link  just likes to feel small and protected, he can admit that much to himself. He's not a rebel omega in _all_ the ways.

 

It’s just really, really nice having someone big and strong to snuggle against, and Rhett's a not-so-secret snuggler too. There have been a few occasions where Link’s grumpily crawled into bed with him, usually when he's eight months pregnant and he can't find a comfortable sleeping position because of the planet growing off of his abdomen.

 

If Rhett has any complaints about this, he's never made them. He just tends to mumble "Hey, buddy" into Link's hair and sling a warm, strong arm around him, then rub his belly gently until Link falls asleep. Which takes about two minutes. It's amazing how easily Link can fall asleep when he's in Rhett's bed, either the mattress or Rhett himself are infused with some kind of magic. Rhett’s always been really good at soothing him.

 

This time around, though, it seems like Rhett is a little more sparing with his touches.

 

And it could all be in Link’s imagination. Each pregnancy is a little different, and this is his third one. Maybe he’s just manifesting some different side effects and one of them happens to be a really strong touch-seeking urge. At least, he tries to tell himself that’s the case, since he doesn’t dare bring it up with Rhett.

 

Link doesn’t know what might come out of his mouth if he tried to have that chat.

 

He’s more worried than ever about coming off like the archetypal needy omega, so he tries to shrug it off at first, but the thoughts refuse to go away. The truth is, there's something in Rhett's scent that he didn't notice until he was in the middle of a heat and desperate for a knot, but now that new note is there all the time. And Link spends each day carrying around the core-deep, heart-shattering realization that this isn’t just some hormonal side effect.

 

Rhett always takes care of him so well and he's always been there for him and Link trusts him and loves him like no one else, and then he had to go and do that thing with his tongue and now Link can't stop thinking about maybe getting to touch him again. Like that.

 

He didn’t realize it right away, but Link definitely had some kind of awakening during that heat. There’s no way for him to pinpoint a particular moment when it happened, but he _does_ remember Rhett's big hands smoothing and steadying his hips, Rhett's mouth soft and groaning against the most vulnerable part of him, Rhett holding him close and giving him everything he needed over and over...and he can't _stop_ remembering it. He doesn’t want to stop remembering it. He actually kind of desperately wants to do it again...with Rhett. Only with Rhett.

 

It makes sense, kind of. He’s always done everything with Rhett, Rhett's his best friend, he loves him like a...oh shit.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Link shrieks, and slices his finger open on a paring knife the second he has this epiphany.

 

Rhett, fortunately, is at work, so he doesn’t have to explain himself. Lightheaded from the blood and his own stupid life-ruining brain, Link doesn’t think he’d have the presence of mind to lie and then he’d probably end up blurting out “hey, I’m really friggin’ in love with you” and passing out into Rhett’s arms.

 

This can’t happen. Link slaps on a fluorescent band-aid and scowls at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. _This can’t happen._

 

So he does his best to act normal, to be polite by never mentioning it. Rhett did him a seriously solid favor by helping him out, no reason to make it weird. His feelings will sort themselves out eventually. They have to.

 

He fills his days with blogging and contract work and meeting the Averys for lunch a few times to catch up and coo over Bethany, who is adorable and has a blessedly proportionate forehead.

 

It helps, a little. He's still worried he's caused a rift between he and Rhett by making Rhett knot him, but he won't let himself say that out loud. He can barely think it without getting a panicky tremor all through his body.

 

Link just can’t help the paths his mind plunges down sometimes. He already knows how Rhett kisses, and how he feels inside him, and how he's just the right balance of gentle and firm, and how fucking good Rhett smells and how warm he is and how his long arms can wrap all the way around Link even when he’s enormous. And when he thinks about how much he'd like to kiss him, about how nice it would be to have someone to make out with during his pregnancy other than his own hand and toy collection…well. There’s no derailing his train of thought sometimes.

 

He's always had Rhett's support during his pregnancies, right down to the foot rubs. The pregnancy hormones and crazy sex drive were the only things he had to deal with on his own.

 

And now Link wants Rhett's body on top of everything else. He's the worst.

 

Rhett already does _everything_ for him, and now Link's stuck on how incredible and natural it felt to let Rhett take care of him during his heat. How freaking selfish can he get?

 

Thankfully, Rhett seems happy to keep moving along like normal.

 

Then again, Rhett's seen Link shoveling Lucky Charms into his mouth with one hand and rubbing cocoa butter on his stretch marks with the other, so there's a pretty good chance Rhett has no problem at all moving along like normal.

 

Link knows he's kind of an awkward mess sometimes, and not just because he's an omega. He's so lucky to have a pal like Rhett who takes care of him and his weirdness without any judgement

 

Now a million of Link’s memories are constantly replaying through a whole new filter. He and Rhett smell like each other constantly, to the point where they’re mistaken for a couple on a regular basis. They’ve always just laughed it off and corrected people.

 

And Rhett takes such a boyfriend stance with Link in public, always standing with his body facing a little bit towards Link and bristling when anyone treats him like a zoo exhibit. Alphas notice that sort of body language from another alpha, it's a subtle way to lay a claim. And Link’s never minded at all, it’s just his bo looking out for him.

 

There have even been multiple times, during an initial meeting between Link and a potential client, where he's been asked, "so your mate doesn't mind what you do for a living?". And each time it’s happened, Link and his reproductive rights lawyer have tried not to snicker when setting them straight.

 

It suddenly doesn’t seem so funny anymore.

 

* * *

 

After Link’s remark about that one alpha’s beard, Rhett makes a decision.

 

He’s been experimenting with variations on the chinstrap look since college. But he’s been out of college a few years, he’s putting his engineering degree to work, and it’s time to draw up the blueprints for an expansion.

 

He tells himself it’s just to see how he looks, not because he’s secretly living in the hope that he's cultivated what Link considers a good beard.

 

It’s all icing on the cake, but as time and facial hair accumulate, he _does_ get the impression Link thinks it's a good look on him. Not because Link says so in those words, but he does say things like "you're looking extra fluffy today, brother" and "the beard really brings out your eyes, which is crazy 'cause I didn't think you could get more bug-eyed" which totally counts.

 

Link’s been good-naturedly teasing him about his so-called chinsecurity for years. Rhett knows a compliment when he hears one and doesn’t hold back from preening.

 

He also spends an embarrassing amount of time finding the perfect beard oil and reading up on proper beard maintenance. The whole time, he knows he's going a bit overboard, but he doesn't really have a lot of details like this to latch onto. If Link happens to like beards and Rhett happens to look nice with a beard, then he’ll run with that as far as he can.

 

By the time Link’s in the thick of his third trimester, Rhett’s pretty proud of the face forest he’s cultivated for himself.

 

He’s also pretty proud of the fact that not once has he chanted "do not get a boner, do not think about that one heat" while he’s got a pregnant Link sleeping with his head in his lap.

 

Not out loud, anyway.

 

* * *

 

"You know how people always talk about doing stuff for fun and profit?"

 

Link is standing in the breakfast nook, holding his BlackBerry in one hand and looking very philosophical for a rainy Sunday morning.

 

"Uh." Rhett doesn't have a clue where he's going with this. "Yeah, I guess?"

 

"You ever done something a lot for profit but not much for fun?"

 

"Be more specific."

 

Link plops down across from him and eyeballs Rhett over his coffee. "Sex, man. I'm specifically talking about sex."

 

Rhett doesn't even have the presence of mind to croon a few bars of Salt-N-Pepa.

 

"Like, obviously I've done it," Link goes on, apparently used to rendering Rhett speechless. "For profit. And that’s all good, it was my decision, I’m not saying I regret it. But it’s not for _fun.”_

 

For one scalding, white-hot second Rhett thinks Link is about to proposition him.

 

Then Link takes a long, slow swallow of coffee and blithely bursts his bubble. “You remember Amir?”

 

“Should I?” Rhett says suspiciously, already disliking him.

 

Link shrugs and gestures vaguely. “He was one of the project managers at Dataram. I did some work for him until like two months before Aaron started trying to kickbox his way out of my stomach.”

 

“Right, yeah.” Rhett can’t keep from stealing a glance down Link’s body. Six weeks post-birth and he’s looking more like his old self, but still a little rounder and softer than usual. “What does this have to do with…”

 

“Oh, he totally wanted a piece of this,” Link says airily, flashing him a grin. “He wasn’t a creep about it or anything,” he’s quick to add, like he can sense Rhett trying to telepathically punch this guy. “And like, obviously I told him I wasn’t interested because, hello, there was a bun in my oven and he was just another alpha getting high off the fumes.”

 

“Link…” Rhett starts, feeling a ball of dread starting to build in the pit of his stomach.

 

“I’m kind of thinking maybe I might look him up and see if he’s still...I mean...it might be fun.” Link has the most plaintive look on his face now, eyes huge and blue behind his glasses, almost like he’s waiting for Rhett’s approval.

 

Link, Rhett belatedly realizes, has never had sex outside a heat.

 

Link barely let himself date back when they were teens, he was always so frustrated by whether people were attracted to _him_ or just his omega status. But he’s older, wiser, and more sure of himself now...and it's not like he'd have a hard time finding a partner.

 

Not to mention he lives with Rhett, who's...kind of a slut, if Rhett’s honest with himself. Just being around him might have inspired Link to do some experimenting of his own. And Rhett, of all people, certainly can’t judge him for that.

 

And so, even though it feels like an icy hand is squeezing his throat, Rhett tells him, “If you think that might be something you’d like, give it a shot.”

 

The mug of coffee in front of him is lukewarm at best, but Link’s smile is sunny enough to have it blazing. “I think I’m gonna, man. Just to see, y’know? Just a one time kind of deal.”

 

All at once, a tidal wave of protectiveness crashes over Rhett that makes him grateful he’s sitting down already. It’s the same desperation-edged, knee-jerk alpha reaction he got when he learned Link wanted to get into  the breeding industry. The same Neanderthal mentality that resulted in Rhett actually offering to take Link to the gun range that one time (and spawned a dozen circular arguments consisting of “You've gotta know how to protect yourself!" and "Bo, I'm not showing up anywhere to get pregnant while I'm _armed_ ").

 

He’s mellowed out a lot over the years when it comes to Link being safe during his heats, and he’d eventually convinced him to do some hand-to-hand self-defense classes too. But the idea of Link just...meeting someone for a one-time fling...that gets his hackles up, even though it’s the kind of thing Rhett does all the time.

 

“I got your back. But you’ve gotta call me if anything skeevy happens, okay? I’ll hit Home Depot to pick up a shovel and some potting soil just in case.”

 

Link snorts. “What, if he looks at me wrong are you gonna turn him into ficus food? And uh, this is assuming he wants anything to do with me.”

 

“Oh,” Rhett says flatly, “he will.”

 

“In _that_ case.” Link leans forward, all smiles again. “I need your help, brother. I have no idea what I’m supposed to tell him to get this ball rolling, y’know?”

 

In addition to the other gaps in his development, Link never learned the fine art of flirting. He never had to.

 

Rhett steels himself. “Okay, say you call him. What’re you thinking you’ll say?”

 

"I dunno, something like....hey, Amir! So, remember how you asked me out and I told you I shouldn't because I'm pregnant? Well, I'm not anymore and I still don't really want to go out but we could...stay...in?" Link cringes, shoulders hunching into a half-shrug. “How’s that?”

 

He looks so helpless it makes Rhett bark out a genuine laugh. “It might need some work. Don’t worry, we’ll get you there.”

 

* * *

 

Rhett is dozing off on the couch when the sound of keys in the door makes him sit up at attention.

 

"Hey brother," Link says, casual as can be, "Do we have any of that good bread? I'm dying for a grilled cheese."

 

Rhett desperately wants to jump up and grab Link by the shoulders and demand to hear every single detail of his night, but instead he just nods.

 

He stares at the television while Link putters around the kitchen, dropping things and humming to himself. He emerges a little while later with a grilled cheese and a glass of milk and throws himself onto the couch.

 

"So," Rhett glances at him, catching a glimpse of the blissful expression that crosses his face when he takes a bite of his sandwich. "Good night?"

 

He feels like such a dick for hoping that Link says no.

 

Link scrunches up his nose between bites and sighs, "I mean...kinda? It's not like I have any real point of comparison. I think I'm mostly just glad to have that last vestige of my virginity gone."

 

Rhett nods, watching Link practically inhale his food.

 

With half the sandwich gone, he finally puts his plate down and takes a breath. He looks up at Rhett, head tilted to the side in honest curiosity.

 

"How do you _do_ this?" he asks, "Just hook up with people whenever? It's exhausting."

 

Rhett shrugs. "I guess I've been working on my stamina for a while."

 

Huffing a laugh through his nose, Link starts on the rest of his food.

 

Rhett feels like a deflated balloon. He was so eager to hear it all, but now that Link is home, licking butter off his fingers and smelling like unfamiliar soap, Rhett just wants to wrap him up in a hug and forget this night ever happened.

 

"Man," Link sighs, putting his empty plate on the coffee table, "Like, Amir was fine, you know? He wasn't a creep, he was nice to me, he let me use his shower… but it was so _weird_ , dude."

 

Rhett tries to silence the part of him that's jumping for joy. "Sometimes you just don't click with a person, I guess."

 

"Yeah, but I don't think it was about clicking. It just… it didn't feel…" He ducks his head, a flush blooming on his cheeks.

 

"It didn't feel… special?" Rhett supplies.

 

Link nudges him with his foot, grinning. "Shut up, don't make fun of me."

 

"I'm not teasing, dude, it's fine," Rhett says, catching Link's foot in his hands and absently digging his thumb into the arch, the way he so often has when Link is pregnant. If he's not careful, Link is going to start reading into these little touches, but he can't resist tonight. "Sometimes... I think about what it could be like to be with someone I loved. Someone to make it special with, y'know?"

 

Now it's Rhett's turn to blush. He can't even meet Link's eyes, keeping them trained on the television, which he's only now realizing is tuned to C-SPAN.

 

Link just sighs, sinking down further on the couch and swinging his other foot up onto Rhett's lap.

 

"Wanna watch something? I'm wired."

 

Rhett smiles, grateful that that conversation is over. "There's a Full House marathon on somewhere, I think."

 

"I'm only watching that show if you agree to stop trying to guess which Olsen twin is on screen," Link says, digging his toes into Rhett's thigh.

 

"It's not a guess, I _know_ which one it is," Rhett mutters, picking up the remote.

 

Predictably, Link is asleep halfway through the first episode. Rhett stays up a while longer, absently rubbing his thumb across Link's ankle, letting himself indulge in the moment. The world didn't end because Link went out and slept with some guy. He smells the same, he looks the same, and he came home. He came home to Rhett.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch, guys! Thank you again for being patient while we took an extra day to hack this chapter into shape.

There are a lot of firsts Link still hasn’t experienced.

He's always considered sex to be pretty special, partly a holdover from his upbringing and partly since he’s a breeder who has it solely so he can help couples in need have a baby. It's just not the same as having an actual relationship by any means.

There are a lot of clauses and caveats that come with his profession. Link blushed like hell the first time he sat down with a rep from his fertility agency and she started walking him through a standard contract. Going in, his biggest worry had been not understanding the legalese and accidentally signing away his soul or something. It turned out he should have worried about having to sit still while a reproductive rights lawyer politely and professionally assured him his clients were contractually obligated to uphold certain standards. In the interest of keeping an omega’s consent and safety their top priority, the agency required clientele to abstain from role playing, bondage, and a whole list of other things that kept Link red as a cherry for a good twenty minutes.

It makes sense to keep things vanilla, he understands that now. His clients are looking to impregnate him, not get their kink on.

He was still a virgin when they drew up his first contract, still new to the area and the job and learning to navigate the unfamiliar. He likes to think he’s matured a little since then.

So when he takes his next contract, he’s more intrigued than nervous that it’s another first for him to experience. He’s never been impregnated by a female alpha before, but Paige Jansson and her husband Ian have been riding the top of his applicant list for a while now. There’s no reason to shy away from the unfamiliar.

“Hey, Rhett,” he yells, loud enough to be heard down the hall and over the rush of the shower. “I think I’m gonna have a heat with a girl alpha this time.”

“Be a gentleman,” Rhett yells back. “You need me to draw a diagram or did Mrs. Pugh give you a pamphlet for that back in the day?”

Link saunters into the bathroom and flushes the toilet, just because.

  


* * *

 

 

“Do you know what a claviger is?” Stevie asks.

Sitting in Rhett’s plaid papasan with her legs folded and Link’s favorite Mean People Suck mug clasped in both hands, she looks like she lives there. Link is in his room, sleeping like a log while his body resets its equilibrium post-heat. Apparently it went just fine even without Rhett’s generous offer to provide a helpful diagram or two.

Rhett blinks. “Uh...you are, right? Is this what they call a tautology?”

Stevie lets out a surprisingly girlish laugh. “That’s technically right, yes. I had to look it up when I was job-hunting because I didn’t know either. It’s someone who holds the key to a place.”

“That makes sense.” Stevie is basically Link’s protector whenever he takes a client. She has the metaphorical keys to his safety and the literal keys of his clients that they’re obligated to hand over beforehand.

She darts her eyebrows upward three times in quick succession. “It can also mean someone who carries a club. The Latin words for key and club are really similar.”

“Dang, so whoever picked that name had a classical education and a weird sense of humor. You ever had to club anyone?”

“Not yet.” She takes a sip of chai. “The craziest thing I’ve had to do was drive an omega to the hospital because she got cold feet and started having a panic attack.”

Rhett can’t imagine how one manages to get cold feet during a heat. “Whoa.”

“Sometimes people sign up for more than they realize. It’s a tough job.”

“I got Link to take self-defense classes,” Rhett admits. “In case he’s the one who needs to do some club-smacking.”

“He told me. That’s good.” Stevie brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “West Coast Fertility tries to make sure to hire people who have a good support network, since it’s always tougher on the omega if they’re totally on their own. And Link is basically half your life, so yeah.”

“More than half,” Rhett says without thinking. “But we’d both club someone for him, yeah,” he adds, forcing a laugh. “I just wouldn’t get paid for it, that’s all you.”

Stevie doesn’t bat an eye. “Exactly. I mean, you love him and want to make sure he’s safe. That’s like the definition of a solid support system.”  She slants him a smile under the brim of her hat, and if she notices Rhett startle she doesn’t let on. “Sometimes I meet an omega’s family or whatever and they, like, interrogate me. But you always just just trust me to do my thing.”

“Is that why you’re still gracing us with your presence?”

He’s only half joking, and he suspects he already knows the answer. Ever since Stevie graduated and started freelancing on film sets, she’s cut back on her claviger commitments. Link is one of the few she’s kept on her caseload.

“Well, yeah. You’re my North Carolina boys,” Stevie says, like it’s obvious. “It’s not easy to move all the way out here. And none of the other omegas have vlogs, so there’s kind of an ulterior motive.” Link’s last vlog, a baby food taste test, had been her idea and he’d added her name to the credits.

“Gotta pad that resume,” Rhett drawls. “I knew it.”

“My ex didn’t believe me at first when I told her what I do. And this is LA. _And_ we had this conversation surrounded by glittery bears, but somehow I was the weirdest thing about it.”

Rhett isn’t sure how one would even begin explaining the weird intersection of filmmaking and clavigering, but he’s even less sure what he just heard. “Glittery...bears.”

Stevie gives him a pitying look. “Rhett. Seriously? You’ve been here how many years?”

“So y’all weren’t at the zoo when this went down, huh?”

“You need to go to Pride this summer. It’s a rite of passage.” She looks dead serious. “That’s how I met my girlfriend, she got separated from the Bi Betas Brigade and we ended up at the same rooftop bar.”

Rhett can’t help it, he lets out a snort and immediately feels guilty. “Is there a brigade I’m supposed to join?”

“Only if you want to. I’m sure there are several.” She drains her mug and sets it on the coffee table with a clink. “Anyway, you’ve got a few months to decide, but you should check it out. Bring Link, it’ll be fun.”

And that sets a new fusillade of guilt through Rhett because he immediately imagines how it would feel to coax Link into going to Pride, how everyone would assume they were a couple, and how easily he could revel in it without correcting a soul. He’s supposed to be getting over Link, not miring himself even deeper into this mess. But even now, a year and a half later, he _still_ can’t stop reminiscing about that one night. How Link was all dewy with sweat, rounded cheeks flushed, and his skin was so warm and silky that Rhett wanted more than anything to keep from mouthing at him until Link was covered in marks.

He has to glance away; it's as if Stevie can see his thoughts scrolling like a film reel through his eyes.

“You’re right, I’ve been here a while. I keep telling myself I'll do all this stuff and then I just… don't. Like I'm waiting for something to happen, you know? And now I feel like it’s not really in the cards anymore.”

Stevie gazes at him calmly as she slings on her messenger bag. “So maybe you need to shuffle the cards.”

There’s no way for Rhett to hide his double-take this time. He’s about as subtle as a cartoon character.

“I’ll think about it,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Routine checkups are all part and parcel of the whole fertility gig.

The Janssons meet Link at the hospital for a standard ten-week ultrasound and for the most part it’s all the same drill as usual. Gamely smiling through the comments about how wonderful it is that he’s helping this couple start their family. Grimacing as he drags on the scratchy blue gown. Letting out an alarmingly high-pitched laugh at the sensation of cold gel against his skin.

Ian looks a little startled, but Paige just laughs right along with him. It makes Link want to kiss her, a sudden swell of the wild, impulsive surge of emotions he sometimes gets towards alphas he’s contracted with.

And then the ultrasound tech drops a freaking bomb on him.

He has to hold it together in front of Paige and Ian, but once he’s home it’s another story.

“Dude, oh man, it’s bad,” he wails to Rhett as soon as he stumbles through the door.

Rhett, the big jerk, doesn’t even turn away from the Xbox. “What is?”

“The frickin’ baby, man,” Link groans. “This is gonna suck so bad, dude.”

That gets Rhett’s attention. He actually pauses the game as Link flops onto the couch. “Is everything okay?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. “Is it, like, deformed?”

Link scrunches his eyes closed. “It’s not an _it._ ”

Rhett, bless his heart, takes that entirely the wrong way. “Right, my bad, did you find out the sex today? Boy or girl?”

“It’s freaking _twins,_ ” Link bursts out. “Plural. More than one. Double everything. Crap, how’m I gonna survive this?”

Rhett looks him up and down. “You’ve got a point. You’re a skinny guy, man, you’ll be overbalancing all over the place.”

Link nods furiously. “Exactly!” He’s not the most graceful person as it is. What if he spends the last couple months of this pregnancy toppling over left and right? What if he’s so huge he can’t even walk?

“I can push you around in a wheelbarrow, no big deal,” Rhett assures him, deadpan.

For the first time since the big reveal, Link utters a giggle that isn’t tinged with hysteria. “I’m gonna fill it up with pillows and hold you to that.”

Despite Rhett’s reassurances, he’s still worried. Does this mean all his pregnancy cravings are going to be twice as bad? What if his clients only want one baby and leave the other outside a church? How much bigger is his belly going to be than usual? He was totally joking about that wheelbarrow, but what if it actually becomes necessary?

Paige and Ian seem absolutely thrilled to be having twins and Stevie promises him that his clients can't just _refuse_ a baby if they change their minds. Even though Link knows his contract inside out and is well aware this is entirely true, he can’t keep his nerves from jangling with anxiety sometimes.

“Look, if they really don't want two kids, we'll just adopt the other one,” Rhett casually says during one of Link’s what-if episodes.

Obviously he’s just saying that to calm him down, but Link can't explain why his heart suddenly feels like it's grown wings. “I’m kinda obligated to name my firstborn son Lincoln, don’t forget that.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Rhett gives him a knowing look. “And if you have a girl, she’s gonna end up named Princess Leia.”

“What little girl doesn’t want to be named after a princess?” Link counters. He not-so-secretly wants to name a kid after Star Wars somehow and Rhett has been not-so-secretly judging him for it since they were both fifteen. It’s a comfortable, well-worn argument and he bounds down the path without thinking twice. “And come on, Amidala is a really pretty name and I’d just call her Amy anyway.”

Rhett narrows his eyes. “That’s...borderline acceptable, actually.”

“But for real, what’s the obvious name for twins if you’re a Star Wars fan?”

“You are _not_ getting the Janssons to call these guys Luke and Leia.”

Link snorts and rests a hand on the faint curve of his stomach. “Doesn’t mean I can’t, though.”

As if in response, one of the twins gives a kick that makes him sit bolt upright. “Dude, I think they’re listening. Luke just kicked.”

“You can’t event tell which one it--” Rhett starts.

“Dang it, man, why do you hate fun? Use your imagination. Or the Force.” Link reaches out to snag him by the wrist. “Feel that? That’s a couple of Jedi in the making.”

Rhett rolls his eyes, but his cheeks give him away. “Fine.” He lets himself be guided closer and his hand lingers, wide and warm, on the crest of Link’s stomach. “I think Leia just high-fived me.”

Link beams. “ _Now_ you’re getting it.”

 

* * *

 

If nothing else, Luke and Leia make for some quality vlog content.

Link’s viewing stats skyrocket.

Stevie emails him ideas on a regular basis after the success of the baby food vlog.

Rhett dons an ill-fitting tweed jacket to play “which item from the produce section is closest to the size of this baby?” and still brings in a flood of comments about how handsome he is.

Link can’t lie, he loves the attention and he loves having an outlet for his rants that isn’t just Rhett. Rhett is already such a good sport about Link’s everyday oddness being amplified into pregnancy oddness. He gamely plays along when some well-meaning stranger assumes they’re a couple and asks what they’re planning to name the baby.

Or rather, he just smiles and nods and lets Link run with the moment. They were in line at the movies once when it happened and Link, exasperated, declared, “Well, I wanted to name her Colgate, after my grandma, but my husband is voting for Beyonce so she always knows she's a star."

At which point Rhett had mumbled, “Be right back, sugar pie” and practically sprinted for the bathroom in order to crack up.

There was also the time when he was just trying to pick up his prescription in peace when a strident blond woman marched right up and demanded to know when he was due. Link took great pleasure in staring straight at her and replying, "Due for _what_?"

People who approach random pregnant strangers to ask invasive questions deserve to feel awkward. As someone who feels awkward about ninety percent of the time, he’s very adamant on this point.

They devote an entire vlog to retelling and reenacting these moments, and the response is so overwhelmingly positive Link has to email Stevie the next day to bounce a few ideas off her.

Their next vlog is "five ways to respond to invasive pregnancy questions" starring Link as his long-suffering self and Rhett in a wig and cats-eye glasses as the invasive question-asker.

He gets a call from his mom after that one, aghast and appalled that people actually ask him these things.

“Not often, but yeah, sometimes,” Link tells her truthfully, and she pauses for a moment before urging him to be safe and not hesitate to pepper spray anyone who makes him uncomfortable.

“Mom, you really want me to pepper spray Rhett?” he jokes. “‘Cause he’s the most uncomfortable person I know.”

“You know darn well what I mean,” his mom sniffs, but she can’t keep the laugh out of her voice.

The irony of it all is that Rhett really _has_ been unsettling Link’s comfort zone these days. Not often, not with any regularity, but enough for Link to be aware it’s happening.

Okay, so he’s enormous. So he feels like a dissonant chord in the melody of his own life just by existing in this state. None of this is Rhett’s fault. Link is just moody and hormonal and hyperaware of every little thing that sets him on edge, there’s no helping it.

His colostrum comes in earlier than it has in previous pregnancies, but Link just sighs and breaks out the absorbent bra pads that have served him so well over the years. The expectancy section at Target doesn’t have a very exciting selection of bras, but they’re better than nothing. Normally Link would eschew bras entirely while he’s at home, since there’s no one around to impress but Rhett and Rhett’s firmly in his no-judgment zone when Link is this far along. But this time, he feels like he should at least try not to look like a complete trash heap.

Which, again, is weird. There’s no one to impress but Rhett, who’s seen Link in full trash heap mode many a time.

And that’s not the only thing.

Rhett always calls ahead of time on the rare occasion that he brings someone home, just to make sure Link is fine with it. Link’s never had any issue with this before; he's never begrudged his bro a sex life just because his own involves thorough legal documents.

Ever since that heat they’d spent together, though, the thought of watching Rhett walk a new conquest through their living room while Link sits on the couch being pregnant and awkward just makes his skin crawl. Whenever Rhett goes out for the night, Link dreads getting a text or a call from him asking if it's okay for him to bring someone home. He tries to make a habit of going to bed early so he can avoid getting them at all.

Since Link is accustomed to chalking all kinds of things up to hormones, initially he does just that.

But he's never had this kind of issue during a pregnancy before, where he's extra grumpy and touch-hungry at the same time and also kind of wants to kiss Rhett until there's beard burn all over his face. How the heck is he supposed to explain that to himself?

Link realizes halfway through a burrito the size of his head that he’s never had a crush before.

Back when they were kids, before he found out he was an omega, he used to have silly thoughts about marrying Rhett and living in a house made of Reese's peanut butter cups. And then when he _did_ learn he was an omega, his life was so damn stressful and complicated he never had the time to develop an actual crush. He was too self-conscious, too suspicious of anyone who expressed interest in him. There was never a point where his reservations relaxed enough for a crushing-on stage of his own.

By the time he’s completely finished the burrito, he’s still frustrated as hell. It doesn’t make any sense. This can’t be a crush because it's _Rhett_ and they're basically brothers.

Brothers who had incredibly hot sex that one time. That just sounds wrong. What in the world is wrong with him?

Link normally isn't bothered by the dietary restrictions of pregnancy, but he suddenly really wishes he could have a drink.

 

* * *

 

With Stevie's slightly mysterious advice echoing in his head, Rhett starts doing some research.

It's never really bothered him to not have a label for whatever the heck his sexuality is, but he has to admit, Pride does sound like fun. On a particularly slow day at work, he finds himself reading an article defining about two dozen different sexual orientations, and his head is spinning about halfway through.

He does find his label, though.

"I'm pan!" he announces, grinning, as he bursts through the apartment door later that day.

From the couch, Link looks at him, blinking.

"Like the goat thing?"

Rhett rolls his eyes. "Pan _sexual_ , buddyroll. I'm pansexual."

Link rubs a hand over his belly, which Rhett swears is bigger than it was this morning. He takes a deep breath in, then sighs, looking confused.

"I'm sorry, bo, I wanna be happy for you, but I can't tell if this is like a new coming out or what, and I threw up eight times today and I just really need things spelled out for me right now."

"No, same me, new label. I've been researching." Rhett walks to the kitchen and pours up a glass of ginger ale.

"That sounds like an awesome use of your time at work," Link calls from the other room.

"Not like I'm doing anything else over there," Rhett says, emerging from the kitchen and handing Link the glass.

"Oh man, I love you," Link says, taking a sip, "I love that you're pansexual and I'd love you if you were a goat thing as long as you keep us stocked with ginger ale always and forever."

Rhett sinks into the easy chair, still smiling. For all that he didn't want a label, he has to admit, he doesn't hate the feeling of knowing he's part of a group in some way.

"How about," Rhett says slowly, "we make a deal?"

"I'm listening."

"I'll keep the fridge full of ginger ale for the rest of your breeding career, and you… come to Pride with me next week."

He's fully aware that the point Stevie was intimating during their conversation was more about meeting someone at Pride than about taking Link along to give the whole city the impression that they're mated, but Rhett's okay with taking baby steps.

Link sits up, tilting his head. "Pride like, the gay pride parade?"

"Well, not just _gay_ pride, but yeah."

"Right, goat pride too," Link grins.

"So? What do you think? Stevie told me I should check it out and it seems really cool, like just a lot of people dancing and throwing glitter and rainbows everywhere, it couldn't possibly be boring." He feels himself getting excited as he talks about it.

Link looks a little more reserved. "I dunno, I mean… am I allowed to go? Like, the terms don't really apply, but I'm not into omegas, so technically I am straight."

"That's totally okay," Rhett assures him quickly, "There's whole groups for family and friends to march in, straight or not. It's very inclusive, trust me."

Link seems to scan him then, a smile spreading across his face. "As long as you won't make me march any further than my fat ankles dictate. They're getting bigger by the minute."

Rhett feels himself light up. "Deal."

"And as long as you let me tape all our kitchenware to my clothes and carry a sign that says 'I support pans'."

"You know what, I bet Stevie would let me tag along with her and her girlfriend," Rhett says, pretending to dial his phone.

Link gasps, "You wouldn't leave a pregnant omega at home on the happiest day of the year, would you?"

"Why don't you start pinning spatulas to your jeans and see what happens?"

Link doesn't get to make his costume, but Rhett does whip up a homemade shirt for him with the words _Our dad is straight but not narrow_ with two sets of footprints on the belly. He presents it to Link on the morning of the parade.

He's pretty proud of his handiwork, especially when they join up with their group, a colorful gaggle of people with a banner that reads PAN PARTY, and several of them squeal over Link's shirt.

He's pretty sure every last one of them are assuming that Rhett is the father of those two sets of footprints, and he has no desire to correct any of them.

 

* * *

 

Around his seventh month, Link starts learning just why most breeders retire before age 30.

September in California is like a sunny, sweaty torture chamber for someone carrying twins. Link spends the vast majority of his time on the couch in nothing but his underwear and one of Rhett's giant old t-shirts from the 90's, back when everyone wanted to look like they were showing off what size they wore before they lost the weight. Link is acutely aware of how tight it's starting to become across his midsection.

The only thing that the heat hasn't managed to defeat are his cravings. A couple times a week, he has to drag himself out of his nice, climate controlled apartment and trudge to the supermarket for pickles and cured ham and spray cheese, or milk chocolate and Sour Patch Kids with a side of Lucky Charms. He's already the size of a planet and he's completely given up on trying to make himself look presentable, and yet people still approach him like he's a puppy asking for belly scratches.

He's taken to wearing his "Can't touch this" pregnancy shirt every time he leaves the house, which tends to curtail the actual attempts at belly scratches, but nothing stops the comments.

Link is a good Southern boy. His mama raised him to be polite, and even when he's carrying twins and near fainting with the heat, he does his best. He's sure he's staring daggers at everyone who approaches him with a smile on their face, asking if it's his first baby, but he usually answers honestly, even as he aggressively maneuvers his cart around them and power-walks away. It helps that the honest answer is _It's not my baby_ , which provides its own shock value.

There's one day, though. He's 34 weeks along, it's 95 degrees out, and he's finally managed to haul himself off the couch and to the store. He's just going to get some Doritos and get out.

As usual, his one item shopping trip turns into five or six, and he's standing in front of the Nutella, debating whether it's worth it to get the bigger jar, when an older lady approaches him, her whole face lit up with glee.

"Oh, sweetie, just look at you!" she coos, like Link is a toddler who just took its first steps.

Something in Link's brain snaps in that moment, and he can't even bring himself to offer an insincere smile. Steeling himself, he picks up the biggest jar of Nutella on the shelf, tosses it into his cart, and goes to push it around the woman, who's planted herself in front of it.

"Now you must be so excited," the woman says, still trying to meet Link's gaze. "Tell me, it must be twins, is it twins?"

Link finally looks up at her, immensely satisfied with how quickly her smile fades when she sees his expression. He takes a slow breath.

"It's a tumor."

His only regret is that he can't stick around to watch her cheery face morph into horror. He turns on his heel, leaving his cart, and, with as much dignity as possible, waddles away.

He's halfway home before it occurs to him that for all the satisfaction he got from that exchange, it's still no match for the Doritos he abandoned.

When he gets back to the apartment, Rhett is home from work. Link recounts the story with pride - Rhett always gets a kick out of Link's late-pregnancy sass.

"But the downside is, I didn't get my Doritos," he sighs, "It's tough having principles."

"So tough," Rhett says, shaking his head.

Since he's not going to be eating chips, Link opts for a nap on the couch instead -- his only two activities nowadays.

He wakes at the sound of the front door closing, and opens his eyes to see Rhett standing there, grocery bag in his arms.

"You were asleep so I didn't know what kind to get," he says, a little sheepish, "So uh, here's five different kinds of Doritos?"

Link feels his chest constrict. "Oh, bo," he says, hoarse with sleep and maybe a little bit with tears, because, well, twins. "You didn't have to."

Rhett shrugs, "But I did."

Lifting Link's legs up, Rhett sits on the couch and lets them fall to his lap.

"Gosh," Link says, taking the bag from him and digging through it. "I could kiss you right now."

"Don't think I'd object," Rhett snorts, then quickly grabs a bag for himself and rips it open, shoving about half of it into his mouth in one go.

Link feels tears springing to his eyes and doesn't even try to fight them; that train left the station months ago. How could he keep from crying when he lives with the sweetest alpha in the universe?

Smiling, Link presses a kiss to his own fingers and then, with effort, sits up just enough to touch them to Rhett's cheek.

It's hard to tell if Rhett's blushing in this weather, but Link could swear he sees a little more pink lighting up his cheeks.

 

* * *

 

It's the middle of the night when Link wakes up in Rhett's bed. Everything feels a little hazy, and it takes him a minute to realize that he's hard.

"Shit--" he whispers, moving to squirm out from Rhett's arms, but they tighten around him.

"S'okay," Rhett breathes, right against his ear, hot and low. "Stay with me."

Link lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he presses back against Rhett's body and feels hardness against his ass.

"Oh," he says, feeling dizzy, disoriented. "I'm so wet, gosh."

" _Yeah_ ," Rhett moans, rolling his hips.

"Rhett," Link whimpers as he arches his back, "Oh, oh, _Rhett--_ "

Link's eyes fly open as he wakes with a start.

Rhett is behind him, but most definitely very much asleep, and most definitely _not_ hard and grinding against Link's ass. Squirming, Link feels slickness on his thighs, his cheeks burning.

By about month six of every pregnancy, Link loses the ability to sleep alone. His body is just wired for cuddling, okay, and pregnancy hormones amplify that to eleven. Rhett has been nothing but accommodating in this regard; he's never once hesitated to let Link crawl under the covers with him, and even though Rhett's not much of a contact sleeper himself, it's rare for Link to wake up without finding Rhett in the same position he was the night before, pressed against Link's back with a protective hand on his belly.

The problem is, since That One Heat (which is always and forever capitalized in Link's brain), it's gotten tougher to have Rhett spooning him all night without some very inconvenient thoughts -- and even worse, dreams -- springing into his head.

This is another area where pregnancy hormones are not helping. Link's favorite vibrator has gotten so much use in the last few months, he's expecting its resignation letter any day now. And even that barely takes the edge off; he still crawls into Rhett's bed every night with that familiar heat low in his belly, willing himself not to do something mortifying like get hard before Rhett is even asleep.

Not that it's much better when it happens in the middle of the night.

With his eyes squeezed shut, he shifts the lower half of his body away from Rhett's, equal parts grateful and humiliated when he discovers that, at the very least, he hasn't soaked through his underwear.

Rhett, still fast asleep, tightens his arm around Link, so like the dream that Link's breath catches in his throat. He can't shake it; it felt way too real. His mind is such a traitor.

He lies there for a spell, just working on getting his heart rate back to normal, trying to think unsexy thoughts, but he's surrounded by Rhett, by his scent and his arms and his warmth, and it's a losing battle.

Sleeping alone is preferable to having Rhett wake up and find him like this.

Carefully, slowly, Link extracts himself from Rhett's grasp. The bed dips and creaks as he tips himself up onto his feet, which causes Rhett to stir.

"Mmph," he murmurs, not really awake.

"Shh, go back to sleep," Link whispers, pulling the covers back up over him. "I just… gotta pee."

Guilt washes over him like a wave as he tiptoes out of Rhett's bedroom and down the hall to his own. Rhett will wake up alone, but Link's sleeping and eating habits are so bizarre lately, he won't mind.

Link's bed feels huge and empty as he crawls under the covers. He's not sure how much longer he can keep this up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter this time, but things are about to get real in the next one!

Link gives birth to the twins almost as breezily as he did all the others. There's a small incident where he threatens to clock the midwife when he remembers that he has to deliver a _second_ baby immediately after the first one, but all in all, it goes pretty smoothly.

The post-pregnancy hormone drop, though, that's a little harder.

Rhett isn't even sure if it's Link that's different, or if it's Rhett himself, being overly demonstrative and protective. Sometimes he thinks he's losing his mind, which might be a nice change of pace.

He's well prepared for any and all post-pregnancy blues that might come along. It's sort of like helping a friend through a breakup, only weirder and with more cuddling. They spend a few days on the couch, just watching movies -- nothing sad -- and eating their weight in popcorn. It's proven to be a very effective therapy method, especially when Rhett lets Link have the occasional sniffle against his shoulder without comment. His heart breaks every time Link clears his throat in that telling way; Rhett knows Link wants a baby, even if he's not ready for one yet. He can't imagine what it must be like to carry one to term and then just… hand it over.

Usually, when Link is ready to leave the couch potato phase, they go out to dinner. They get massive quantities of food and Link gets tipsy on a glass and a half of wine, and Rhett valiantly refrains from making fun of his low tolerance. But, he figures, giving birth to twins requires something a little more special than steaks.

"How would you feel about coming out dancing with me tonight?"

They're sitting at the breakfast table, and Link looks up at him like a startled owl peering over his cereal.

"Like, at a club?" he asks, mouth full of Mini Wheats.

Rhett smirks, "Actually, I was looking into these line dancing lessons…"

"Okay, jerk, I know at a club, but like, you want to bring me into your… your space?"

"Dance clubs are not my _space_ ," Rhett says, rolling his eyes, "And yeah, you haven't been out on the town since we moved here, we should go out."

Link chews slowly, looking as deep in thought as if Rhett had just asked him the square root of eggplant. Finally, he nods.

"Let's do it."

 

* * *

 

Link, as it turns out, is in his element at a club.

He doesn't know what he was expecting, maybe a roomful of supermodels all wearing bikinis, men and women alike, but he's all keyed up before they even reach the door. He knows Rhett is laughing at him, but he's actually too excited to care.

There's a wall of sound that hits him as soon as the doors open, and even more intense than that is the scent of all the bodies in there. Everyone is happy, sweaty, horny, and drunk, and Link feels like it's catching. A shiver goes up his spine when he feels Rhett's hand on the small of his back, guiding him through the crowd.

At the bar, Rhett waves up at the bartender, who nods and gives him a smile that he thinks is subtle, but isn't.

"So you slept with the bartender, huh?" Link asks, grinning and poking Rhett in the ribs, "What, did you run out of actual patrons to go home with?"

Rhett shrugs, unashamed. "If you saw his dick, you wouldn't judge me."

"I'll take your word for it," Link says, giving the guy a once over. Way too short.

Rhett gets him a vodka cranberry and a martini for himself, and Link manages to refrain from making a James Bond joke.

"So, see anything you like tonight?" he asks, glancing around at the crowd. It's hard to tell what Rhett's type is -- Link's not even sure if he has one, indiscriminate as he is.

"Uh," Rhett says, and when Link looks at him, he's raising his eyebrows, confused.

"Dude, I can totally get my own cab if you wanna go home with someone," Link says, then after a thought, he adds, "Though you will owe me for half of it."

"Link, come on," Rhett says, and it's hard to hear over the din of the club, but he might actually sound… offended? "You really think I'd ditch you like that?"

Link beams up at him, "So you just wanna stay here and be my bodyguard all night?"

Leaning in, Rhett smiles that smile that always takes Link's breath away. "Nothing would make me happier." and Link almost believes him.

It takes two drinks, pounded back at lightning speed, for Link to start feeling loose, swaying with the music.

"We should dance," he says to Rhett, who's just finishing his martini.

Rhett shakes his head, "Dancing's a three-or-more-drinks kind of activity for me, bo."

"Oh, shut up," Link says, giving Rhett's shoulder a nudge, "This was your idea and it's supposed to be my night, right? You can't bodyguard me from all the way over here if I'm gonna be shakin' it out on the dance floor."

Putting on a cheesy smirk and a drawl like Link's great uncle Lem, Rhett purrs, "You want me to guard your body, darlin'?" and damnit if it doesn't make Link's knees go weak.

Link's never had the urge to dance as much as he does right now. They don't get far into the crowd before it starts getting too dense to move, but they get far enough in that Link can feel the heat radiating from all the bodies around him. He's already drunk, but something about the combination of the temperature and the scent of the crowd and the pound of the bass in his chest makes it feel so much more intense.

"Not being pregnant is _awesome_ ," he shouts into Rhett's ear, who grins at him.

Rhett doesn't really dance, per se, but he does a mean head bop, and anyway, Link's probably dancing enough for both of them. He's never before felt this kind of freedom, this complete lack of inhibition. Just a few years ago, being in a crowd like this would have probably given him a panic attack as he tried to evaluate every glance he got from every single person in his vicinity. But two drinks in and with Rhett swaying to the beat right in front of him, Link feels absolutely invincible.

Three songs go by before Rhett leans in to his ear and asks him if he wants another drink. It takes every ounce of restraint left in Link's body to stop himself from just pressing them together, because every last neuron is screaming at him to do it.

Instead of that, he nods, and follows Rhett back to the bar.

Rhett orders them another round and Link takes his drink, but he's still dancing, like someone flipped the On switch and he can't stop until he gets powered down. He's pretty sure he doesn't need another cocktail, but it goes down like water, and that's a good sign, right?

"More dancing!" he demands, setting his empty glass down as Rhett is just taking his second sip of his martini. Rhett's eyebrows shoot up.

"How about I join you after I finish drinking this drink at a normal human pace?"

"Gosh, grandpa, you're such a stick-in-the-mud," Link says, grinning,"Two songs, and then I'm coming back and dragging you out there."

"Consider me warned," Rhett says, giving him a little shove back out toward the dance floor.

 

* * *

 

Link is a man of many talents, some more hidden than others.

He dances all the damn time and is surprisingly coordinated,  pregnant or not, for someone so accident prone. Rhett's just never really gotten to see him shimmying on a dance floor the way he does in the kitchen while he's killing time waiting for his toast to pop up.

Link treats the dance floor like it’s their own living room, shaking his hips and throwing his arms in the air and singing along to the music regardless of whether or not he knows the lyrics. Rhett can’t tear his eyes off him. He’s not much of a dancer himself, too tall and awkward to handle more than a little stepping and swaying, but there’s something riveting about the way Link’s self-consciousness falls by the wayside so easily. He’s not the most polished dancer in the venue, but he’s clearly having the time of his life. Rhett mentally pats himself on the back for having the idea to take him out.

Of course, Link being Link, Rhett’s not the only one noticing him. There are definitely a couple alphas inching closer and Link seems completely oblivious, too caught up in the dulcet tones of Shakira.

Obviously Rhett has to be ready swoop in and preserve his groove. None of the other knot-it-alls on the floor are gonna ruin this night for his bro. He leans against the bar as casually as he can and keeps his eyes trained on Link’s gyrating form. Sometimes being freakishly tall has its perks.

Rhett's protectiveness hasn't been put to the test like this since John Carson. Link's the only omega in the club that he can detect, and it seems like every alpha in sight is stealing glances at him. That has to be his imagination, though, alphas don’t all suddenly go brainless just because there’s an omega within scenting distance.

The realization hits Rhett belatedly, but with all the weight of a tractor trailer: Link also smells like milk.

He just gave birth less than a month ago. He’s still pumping. He's a public menace.

It isn’t just all in Rhett’s head. Link gets so much attention when he's dancing, that was already an inevitability. He's got that cherub face and the pretty dark hair and he swings his hips like a professional. But added onto that, there’s his scent getting to everyone, that sweet omega scent, and he has no idea that half the club is stealing hungry looks at him.

As Rhett keeps a watchful-but-not-patronizing eye on him, Link dances with a few people, some alphas and some betas, squirming out of reach to come back to Rhett when he needs to take a breather.

“Hey,” he chirps, looping his arms around Rhett's neck and standing on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. It’s such a natural, involuntary seeming movement that Rhett almost doesn’t process it at first. Link takes a half-step back and contorts his eyebrows rather impressively. “Have I managed to entice you back out yet?”

“Not quite, buddyroll,” Rhett says honestly. “You got me out there once, you should feel good about that.”

Link gives him a disbelieving stare. “You aren’t bored just chilling over here?”

“I’m not just chilling, I’m admiring the scenery.” Rhett does some eyebrow gymnastics of his own, just to make Link giggle and poke him in the ribs.

“If you say so, man. I’ll be back for a water break soon.” Link dives in for a quick hug, all those post-pregnancy tactile urges still seething just below the surface. Rhett lets himself give Link a few nuzzles in return, lets his hands smooth over his back and hips a few more times than necessary, just to get as much of his scent as possible all over him. If people in the club assume they're together, that's on them.

He knows it’s such a base alpha urge to succumb to, but Link is always touch-hungry after he’s given birth. It’s not like Rhett’s taking advantage of him. Leaving his scent behind is just a fortuitous byproduct.

Not that it matters anyway. Link resumes his spot on the dance floor like he belongs there and has admirers easing his way in no time. All it takes his one handsy alpha moving up behind him, spreading his hands over Link’s hipbones and gradually sliding one under his shirt, and Rhett's alpha alarm starts blaring. Meanwhile, Link seems delighted; he lolls his head back and grins and never misses a beat with his slim little hips.

Rhett feels like such a killjoy, watching them like a hawk over the rim of his beer, but he needs be ready to intervene if anything goes too far. Link can take care of himself, he knows that, but that doesn’t mean Rhett should just leave him to his own devices if some stupid alpha, even one with an admittedly flawless jawline, makes him feel uncomfortable.

The guy's hand moves higher, hitching Link's shirt up his stomach a couple inches. Link's mouth falls open and his rhythm finally falters a little. Rhett can't stop staring at him, taking it all in when Link’s body jolts back against the alpha who's got his face tucked behind his ear, and there's no fucking way the guy _isn't_ playing with his nipples by now.

And Link's only a few weeks out from giving birth; Rhett knows for a fact that any kind of stimulation at all is going to have him dripping with milk. There are a lot of emotions Rhett’s felt throughout his more or less lifelong crush on Link, but this is the first time he's ever been seriously _jealous._

Much to Rhett’s relief, Link gets flustered enough to guide the handsy alpha’s hand off his chest entirely. He must realize how close he is to leaking, since he turns around long enough to say something to the guy, then starts making his way back towards Rhett.

Just in the space of that one song, Rhett can tell Link’s scent has changed. It’s subtle, but definitely noticeable when Link shimmies his way over to the bar with a huge grin on his face and his glasses askew. “Okay, gotta take that break now,” he announces, and calmly reaches past Rhett for the water cooler. It’s gotten significantly more crowded in their little corner of the bar and somehow he ends up straddling one of Rhett’s legs in the process, but Link makes no move to disentangle them.

Rhett tries to keep the thought from registering, but there’s no hope in ignoring the obvious: Link is getting wet, all worked up from the heat and adrenaline and the bodies all around them. No wonder he’s practically plastered himself against Rhett, his own body must be screaming for relief wherever he can get it. Even though Rhett knows he promised to say something to Link if he started smelling weird, his tongue seems to have frozen inside his mouth.

They’re about to have even more problems if Link doesn’t stop rocking against him. He’s so loopy that Rhett doubts he even knows he’s doing it, but if he keeps it up much longer there's going to be a pretty clear indicator of Rhett’s enjoyment making an appearance soon. He has half a mind to go in for an ass grab or two, but somehow talks himself down from it even though Link is clinging to him like a lamprey. His hands have to settle _somewhere,_ though, and he’s still trying to work out a safe place for them to go when Link slides his fingers through his beard.

Rhett wants to throw back his head and laugh at how freaking absurd his life is. When your best friend is willing to grind on your thigh and pet your beard and smile right into your eyes even when you're all sweaty, that _has_ to mean it’s true love. He’s gonna end up jerking off until he knots his fist, beet-red and guilty behind his locked bedroom door and it’s only gonna take a few more shimmies of Link’s lithe little hips before he realizes why.

“You, ah, you think you’re ready to call it a night?” It comes out sounding way more abrupt than he intends.

And Link's lashes flutter and his lips part and he looks so fucking pretty Rhett hates to throw cold water on the moment. He forces himself to take a step away from him, but he’s clumsy and too abrupt with that too and now Link is looking at him with an almost hurt expression on his face.

And then, just as abruptly, he steps away from Rhett too.

Link’s had enough to drink to leave him buzzed and uninhibited, but the look he levels at Rhett is sober through and through. "Yeah,” he says, in a voice so clipped it takes Rhett aback. “We should probably go. I had a good time."

 

* * *

 

After that, it’s as if nothing ever happened. Link hails them a cab with a saucy little one-person tango that probably makes the driver stop as much out of bafflement as necessity. Then all his energy seems to dissipate and he passes out against the window as soon as they slide into the backseat.

Rhett has never been able to fall asleep that easily. He sits awake with his thoughts, pays the driver the always-exorbitant amount it takes to go anywhere in LA via cab, and wet-willies Link awake once they coast to a stop.

And Link just yelps and rolls his eyes like this is just another normal night, like he didn’t just have his crotch rutting against Rhett’s thigh. It’s like a kick to the gut when Rhett realizes he might have already forgotten about that.

The night doesn’t come up again until the next time they drink together.

This time it's just the two of them, holed up one Friday having some beers on the couch. There’s a Mythbusters marathon on, which means he and Link are making ridiculous bets on which myths end up busted. It doesn't take more than a couple episodes for Link to start getting loose and giggly.

And, of course, choosing all the wrong hills to die on.

“You can _totally_ get cooked if you tan too long,” he insists, almost elbowing Rhett in the ear when he reaches for another bottle. “What if you fall asleep and never wake up because, oops, you just got grilled?”

“Nah, man. No fucking way. It’s a tanning bed, not an oven.” Onscreen, Adam and Jamie are squabbling about the same thing. “It runs on ultraviolet radiation so it doesn’t fry you from the inside, I’ll bet you a McRib.”

Link makes a disgruntled sound and tucks himself a little closer to Rhett.

For a little while, they watch in companionable silence, punctuated by Link groaning when Rhett tries to tally his potential McRib count on a scrap of a receipt.

Then Link drops his head onto Rhett's shoulder. "Hey,” he mumbles suddenly, around a mouthful of popcorn, “are you ever gonna take me dancing again?"

Rhett can’t even answer him. It seems like such a non sequitur, which is very much Link’s style, but it could also mean maybe Link’s been thinking about their night out after all. And Rhett just doesn’t know what to make of that on such short notice.

“Look,” he says instead, gesturing to the screen. “Told you so. Busted.”


	11. Chapter 11

Link is being sneaky.

He probably thinks he’s pulling it off with the stealth of a ninja. It’s kind of endearing, but Rhett finds most things about Link kind of endearing. He knows he’s biased.

What he doesn’t know is what in the world Link has to be sneaky about. On an almost daily basis, Rhett will catch him tap-tapping away on his laptop and ask what he’s working on, only to get a grin and a vague non-answer.

It's impossible for Rhett not to pick up that something's changed, but he doesn't know how to address it. He knows _he_ can keep a secret, he's been keeping a pretty big one from Link for years, but it's not like Link to keep things from _him._

He doesn’t mean to snoop. Whatever Link’s hiding, he can’t hide it for long. Rhett can wait it out.

Then one night his computer is taking forever to update and Link, curled up on the couch and half-asleep, mumbles, “Just use mine, man.”

So Rhett does.

There are over a dozen tabs open, which isn’t out of the ordinary. Apparently the most recent one Link was perusing was for an apartment complex in the area. That very much _is_ out of the ordinary.

And now Rhett can’t stop. The tabs are all still open, it’s not like he’s breaking into Link’s accounts or anything, and Link _told_ him he could use his computer. With a strange twisting sensation in his gut, he clicks into the next one. Another website about nearby apartments for sale. And the next one. And the next one. The next few are all job postings for engineering positions. Before Rhett knows it, he’s viewed every single tab and completely forgotten why he’s even using Link’s laptop in the first place.

It feels like the floor gives out right under him

_Link is leaving him._

He knew it was going to happen eventually. Link would realize Rhett was a creeper or he’d meet some nice alpha to settle down with or Rhett would make himself move out once Link retired from the fertility industry. But Link is almost six months pregnant right now. Rhett always thought he was Link's support for that.

Deliberately, he closes the laptop and walks to his room in a fugue state. Link, snoring audibly on the couch, doesn’t move a muscle.

Rhett practically collapses onto his bed, mashing his face against the duvet. The ache in his stomach is a full-on black hole. Everything hurts. He really thought he was doing okay at this. Acting normal. Not ruining a lifetime of friendship.

The reality is, he’s probably screwed everything up somehow and that’s why this is happening to begin with. Does Link somehow know that when he met with his last client, Rhett sank to a new low and guiltily stole one of the pillows from his bed for the night? That he knotted his fist with Link's scent all around him? His heat was just on the brink of starting when Stevie came to take him over to the clients’ house, so it was almost like his actual heat scent, and Rhett brought himself off to it more than once, nose buried into the pillow and moans spilling out of his mouth. Does Link somehow know all this?

Maybe he hasn’t been careful enough. Rhett's always felt jealous of Link's partners, but he's never felt anger before, like he wanted to rip some guy's head off for daring to even lay their eyes on Link when he's that vulnerable. But that’s how it’s been for him during Link’s last two heats, the two he’s had since the one they spent together.

And that’s the crux of it: Rhett’s experienced Link at his most vulnerable. He knows all the noises Link makes and the way he strains to open his legs as wide as he can and the way he begs for it like he'll cry if he doesn't get a knot in him. It all makes Rhett grit his teeth and ball his hands into fists to even think of anyone else seeing Link that way. He’s constantly torn between intense guilt and just base, instinctual alpha possessiveness, because his body has 100% decided that Link is _his_ omega.

He’s poured so much of his life into making sure there are some things Link _never_ knows. Rhett's positive it would be the end of their friendship if he did, and Rhett honestly doesn't know who he'd be without Link. Deep down, he’s the meatheaded alpha stereotype he’s always been afraid he’d become, and there’s nothing he can do about it. All he can do is silently panic.

Link knows. He has to.

 

* * *

 

Link hasn't really been _trying_ to act secretive, he just isn't sure how to break the news yet.

It’s all totally sensible when he breaks it down in his head. Rhett deserves to have his own space. He can't be Link's pregnancy guru forever. It’s just the logical next step.

Then there’s the whole thing about Link still wanting to pounce on him and kiss the living daylights out of him. That hasn’t abated in the slightest.

But he also knows Rhett will object, because he's always protecting Link to the point where maybe he hasn’t realized this isn’t an indefinitely sustainable arrangement they’ve got here. But someday he will, probably someday soon, and Link gets drenched in dread every time he imagines Rhett being the one to initiate this conversation instead of him. He’s still not looking forward to having to bring it up, but having Rhett get there first would somehow be a thousand times worse.

So Link throws himself into blueprinting the next chapter of his life with all the gusto he can. He has to get everything lined up and ready, all by himself, because otherwise Rhett might talk him out of it.

Unfortunately, now he’s in this awkward limbo of knowing he needs to tell Rhett and hoping Rhett doesn’t know he’s trying to figure out how to tell him, and Link is _still pregnant_ on top of it all.

He types multiple scripts for himself before he finally edits them all into one moderately coherent one, then he gets to work perfecting it. Once he’s accomplished that, he practices in front of the mirror so he knows he can sound sensible when he lays this all on the table for Rhett. The second he sounds even remotely hesitant, Rhett’s going to seize on any moment of perceived uncertainty and Link will end up sputtering his way into gibberish. This absolutely cannot happen.

Of course, when he actually tries to go forward with this plan, it falls apart before it even gets off the ground.

They're cleaning up after dinner and Link, completely spur of the moment, decides to just go for it once he puts the plates in the dishwasher. "Hey, so there's something I want to talk to you about. I'm thinking it's time--"

And Rhett, standing there with his eyes wider than ever and a dishtowel twisted between his hands, just blurts, "Please don't move out."

Link sputters in precisely the way he was trying to avoid. "How did you _know_?" He thought he was being so stealthy, but dang it, he _still_ can't keep a secret from Rhett.

Then Rhett smiles at him knowingly and suddenly Link can’t remember why he wanted to move out at all.

 

* * *

 

 

Rhett's actually pretty proud of himself for not sounding like a desperate wreck when he cut Link off. _Please don’t move out_ was what he wound up saying, but what he was thinking was _please don't leave me._

It’s been resonating off the walls of his skull on repeat ever since he realized what Link was planning.

And now Link is gaping at him like Rhett just pulled the Holy freaking Grail out of his back pocket and it's such a Link reaction that it breaks the tension that’s been humming through Rhett like an electric fence all this time. He gives Link a lopsided smile. "Remember that time my laptop was taking forever to boot up and you let me use yours?"

Link looks honestly stunned by this. " _Dang_ it."

He actually gives himself a little shake, like he’s physically trying to reorganize his thoughts. "Listen, this isn't because you smell funny or anything, it's more like...you should have a place of your own, you know? A place where you can bring people home and not have to worry about what your weird constantly-pregnant roommate is doing. And I'm thinking this'll probably be the last contract I take 'cause...dude, why are you staring at me like that?”

It’s too much. Rhett feels like his throat is going to close up or his heart is going to leap out through his mouth or something equally catastrophic, and he's got this roar of white noise in his ears that he's pretty sure is his blood rushing out of his face.

He has to say something.

It's literally now or never, because he's pretty sure he's about to up and die. And what's the worst that can happen, Link leaves him? That's already happening. He's got nothing to lose.

So he takes a deep breath and carefully says, "I don't want a place of my own. I want you to stay. Because I love you."

That makes Link get this sad smile on his sweet little face and Rhett is about three heartbeats from just flat-out melting all over the floor when Link’s arms wrap around him and remind him how to be solid.

"Hey.” His voice is so gentle it makes Rhett’s knees crumple. Just a little. “I love you too, brother. But we can't be roomies forever, right?"

It takes every ounce of Rhett's self-control not to shake Link until he _gets_ it. Very carefully, he eases out of the hug just enough to look him right in the eye. "Link. Listen to me. The only person I want to take home is already there."

For a too-long span of time that can’t be more than ten seconds, Link just blinks at him like Rhett just proclaimed he's planning to become a professional kangaroo wrestler.

Then the moment explodes like a Molotov cocktail.

"Oh man, are you freaking _kidding_ me?" Link yelps, looking and sounding like he just got electrocuted. His eyes are so frenzied that Rhett actually thinks he might be about to take a swing at him, which would be hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time.

Instead, Link laughs.

It’s not a mean laugh, which he doubts Link is even capable of, and it’s not a forced laugh either. It’s a bubbling, cascading giggle fit that pours out of him like he’s overflowing with it, a pure Link laugh in all its earsplitting glory, and Rhett doesn’t think he’s ever loved him more.

"Seriously, dude?” Link demands. “I'm the size of a house right now."

Rhett shrugs and tries to keep from sounding as dazed as he feels right now, because holy crap. He just put everything all out there. He didn’t dream it, he didn’t die, and Link didn’t try to punch him. "Nah, not a house. A two-bedroom apartment maybe.” The goofiest grin known to man is overtaking his face and it feels great. “And yeah, seriously."

And then Link has his arms back around him, warm and tentative, and all Rhett can think is that all the fans who ship them are going to be so validated if this actually happens.

“Hey.” Link’s voice is soft and serious now. “I didn’t think you...I mean, sometimes it’s like I can’t trust my brain, but like...I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time."

He looks adorably flustered, from the fluffy corona of his hair to the glinting frames of his glasses, to the teeth catching at his lower lip. They’re so close, just an inch and a breath away from a kiss, and this _has_ to end in at least a kiss. There can’t be this much soul-baring happening in such a concentrated period of time without a minimum of one really awesome kiss blossoming out of the moment.

Rhett smiles. "How about fifteen years?"

Link, bless his heart, has no idea just how long pining can _really_ last. If Rhett could, he would grab Link’s hand and weave both of them back through time, shedding years like sweaters until they were back to that broadsiding moment when Rhett first realized how badly he wanted to kiss him. Since the laws of physics aren’t on his side, he does his best to replicate that moment in the present, this time letting himself bend down and tilt his head to match their mouths together, slow and gentle.

Right before their lips meet, Link explodes a second time. “ _What?”_

Rhett can practically hear the record scratch. “Um.”

“You’ve gotta be pulling my leg here.” Link jabs a finger at him. “This is just one of those ‘ceiling Rhett is watching you contemplate’ moments where you, like, wait for me to figure out if you’re serious, right?”

“Why in the world did you just speak to me in lolcat?”

Link ignores him. "You couldn't have mentioned this, I dunno, the first time you offered to rub my feet?"

"You didn't pick _up_ on it the first time I offered to rub your feet?" Rhett shoots back.

“You’re a frickin’ physically...touchy...guy!” Link sputters.

He’s not wrong there. Rhett _is_ very tactile, he's just especially tactile with Link because of...too many reasons. No wonder Link never picked up on them all. Rhett's been in love with him for so long it just became their normal. It never occurred to Link there was anything he might have to figure out.

“Yeah,” Rhett admits, “but I wouldn't make midnight grocery runs to get six kinds of cereal for just anyone.”

For a minute, Link just sags against the kitchen counter and looks at him. “Dang, I feel like an idiot.”

"Dude, you said you liked beards once, so I grew a freaking beard!"

"You do look really good with a beard," Link tells him. Then he narrows his eyes. "Rhett, we totally boned. Why'd you act like it never happened?"

Rhett takes a deep breath, steeling himself up. There’s no lighthearted way to answer this. "You were in heat. I was an alpha who walked by your bedroom. I know you can't...I know it's not really up to you, what you need when you're like that."

But Link just rolls his eyes. "Okay, that's not the _creepiest_ thing an alpha's ever said to me, but it's up there. Can we assume that the fact that I kept asking you to fuck me was consent? Because I was consenting, man. Seriously, I consented as hard as I could for hours. I dunno if this is a surprise, but guess what, I _trust_ you."

And Rhett is biting his lip and looking down at him like the world's most overgrown puppy. "I know that. I just didn't want to bring it up later and have you think I was trying to...push anything. I don't want to be that kind of alpha, especially not with you."

Link definitely looks like he wants to smack him now, but in a loving way. "Oh my goodness, you just...look, next time we go dancing, yours are the _only_ hands I want up my shirt, okay? Write that down if you have to."

Rhett flushes at that and says earnestly, "I was so jealous of that guy. You smelled so amazing that night, Link."

Rhett can practically read Link's thoughts on his face, with the way it's contorting. "Dude, I… I was gonna kiss you, but I didn't think you'd let me. I mean, personally I don't think leaking bodily fluids through my clothes is very appealing, but you alphas are into some weird stuff."

At six months along, Link's belly isn't exactly unobtrusive between them, but Rhett still hesitates before he touches it, waiting for Link's nod before he puts his hand right on the crest of it.

"I always wanted to tell you how sexy you look when you're pregnant," he admits, feeling sheepish, like he's still doing something he's not supposed to. "I never liked when you talked about how huge you were."

Link's cheeks flush pink and he ducks his head, a shy smile on his lips. It occurs to Rhett that Link probably has never been paid a compliment like that before, at least by someone who wasn't a creepbag stranger.

"You're so hot, Link, do you know that?" Rhett continues, both hands on Link's belly now, smoothing reverently over the taut fabric of his t-shirt, which reads _Preggosaurus_ in block letters. "And it takes a special guy to look hot in a shirt like this."

Link snorts, giving Rhett's shoulder a little shove, "You bought me this shirt, ass--"

But at that moment, Rhett decides that he can't go another second without kissing him, and now he's _actually allowed to do it_. So he does.

Link gasps against his lips at first, startled, but he recovers smoothly, locking his arms around Rhett's neck and pulling him down, immediately demanding. Rhett brings his hands up to cup Link's face, stroking over his cheekbones and soothing him until Link slows down, melting against him. They had plenty of frantic, breathless kisses during that one heat; Rhett is determined to take it slow this time.

He moves one hand to the small of Link's back, pressing them together as much as Link's belly will currently allow. Link is so soft, so round and warm, and now that Rhett is allowed to touch him, he's already forgotten how he managed to refrain all these years.

With his other hand, he smooths over Link's hair, fingers carding through the fluffy, unkempt locks. Idly, he wonders if Link likes having his hair pulled, or if he's ever even experienced it. He wonders how much there is that Link hasn't gotten to try, and feels a tiny thrill at the thought of being the person who gets to show him everything he's been missing out on.

With half a mind towards hoisting Link onto the counter and ravishing him right here in the middle of the kitchen, Rhett reluctantly breaks the kiss, drinking in Link's dazed expression with a smile.

"I'm sorry, I just gotta clarify," Rhett says, already feeling a little breathless. "This means you're not moving out, right?"

"Oh," Link says, blinking owlishly. "Yeah, I'm staying."

"Oh thank God," Rhett sighs, though it's muffled against Link's mouth, because even those few seconds were too long.

This time it's Link who gets handsy, bringing his fingers up to Rhett's cheeks and scratching through his beard, moaning breathily and opening his soft, pretty mouth up for Rhett's tongue to slip inside.

Rhett has no idea how long this goes on, but Link is all smiles and pinkness when they finally ease apart.

"Yeah,” he murmurs, that same dazed look in his eyes, “still love a good beard."

Rhett bites his lip, searching Link's face. "So, like... does this mean... " he clears his throat; Link's face is a terrible distraction. "Are we like, a _thing_ now?"

That has Link heaving a huge sigh like Rhett's the slowest creature to ever walk the earth. “Bo,” he tells him, "we've _always_ been a thing."


	12. Chapter 12

In a move that defies every last one of Rhett's instincts, they decide to take things slow between them.

Not emotionally, obviously -- they're already practically common law, and no amount of restraint is going to keep Rhett from telling everyone who'll listen that he finally has a boyfriend -- but physically, they make a decision to move in baby steps.

Link tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he's not planning on finding himself in another serious relationship, so he'd like to make the most of this one. He's never gotten to experience the nice slow burn at the beginning of a relationship, and for that matter, neither has Rhett.

Rhett, for his part, surprises himself by being completely okay with not immediately jumping into bed together. It turns out, all he needed to be sublimely happy with his life was permission to kiss Link's smiling lips every morning before he leaves for work. He knows a thing or two about patience, after all, and he doesn't want to treat Link like he's just another hookup.

Even though he’s not used to taking things slow, this is _Link_ and it feels important to do things gradually. It's just going to make it even more significant the first time he slides his hand into Link's briefs and makes him gasp and clutch at him while Rhett strokes him.

And Link...this is the first real serious relationship for him. There's a lot of new territory for him to navigate and Rhett isn’t about to rush him through it. There are a lot of sights to see and areas to explore as they get to know each other on this new level. Rhett has no problem with any of that. They're traditional boys at heart.

 

* * *

 

Rhett gets laid off.

It's not a shock; given the fact that he'd had one project to work on in the past two months, he wasn't exactly planning his retirement.

Link is considerably more outraged about it than he is.

“Crap, are you _serious_?” he demands when Rhett shares the news. “You can’t just get kicked out of the engineering world right when I’m trying to get into it. Tell ’em to take you back!”

“Too late,” Rhett says cheerfully. “I already built a bonfire for all my khaki pants.”

“Dang,” Link sighs. “I was kind of looking forward to being your kept omega for a little while, too.”

“Say what now?”

“I resigned from the agency this morning.”

“You did?” Rhett says, stunned.

“Duh,” Link replies. “Of course I’ve gotta retire _now_ , I’ve got a _boyfriend."_

Rhett is still struggling to process this. “But I thought you’d already booked a client for after…” he gestures eloquently to the swell of Link’s belly.

“I did. But that was gonna be my last one. It’s not like I was gonna make a lifelong career out of this anyway, you know that. So I had admin cancel the booking and recommended some alternatives to the family."

Rhett can’t lie to himself, he was dreading the idea of Link taking another contract, but he could never figure out a way to broach the subject without sounding like a jerk. He’d more or less resigned himself to the possibility of Link sleeping with another alpha at some point. It would destroy him a little, but Rhett’s spent most of his life being quietly destroyed over Link; he can take it. Now it looks like he’s going to end up a complete mess for a whole different reason because Rhett suddenly feels like he could cry from relief. Clearly Link’s pregnancy hormones are contagious

“You...quit your job,” he says slowly.

Link’s grin widens. “Uh, I prefer ‘retired prosperously,’ thank you very much.” It’s a pretty accurate description. Rhett knows that Link has saved every last penny he could from his contracts, and his vlogs are getting more ad revenue lately. He's doing just fine even without one last contract. “But I _was_ hoping to be a kept omega at least long enough to get a vlog or two out of it.”

Even though Rhett knows it’s a joke, he can’t help responding in all seriousness. “Hey. You’re so much more than just an omega to me, don’t even--”

Link cuts him off with a groan and hauls him down for a kiss.

The world somersaults. Rhett doesn’t let go of him for the next twenty minutes.

“We’re officially unemployed, man,” he muses as they lie there on the couch, Link’s legs tangled up with his. “What are we gonna do now?”

Link’s hand steals up under his shirt, tracing over his ribs just lightly enough to make him jump. “How do you feel about starting a company?”

 

* * *

 

Very slowly, their plans take shape. Link’s days as a pregnancy-focused vlogger are numbered as it is, and the two of them have been semi-seriously talking about doing entertainment full-time for years. It never seemed feasible at first, but after years of living in LA and realizing pretty much anything is possible, now seems like as good a time as any to take a gamble.

Their relationship progresses just as gradually.

Link gets so bombarded by heat-muzzy memories sometimes that he can barely look at Rhett without going dizzy and cross-eyed. They’re still going slow, but he’s beyond ready for whenever things start to pick up. After Rhett’s kitchen confession, he made a doctor’s appointment as soon as possible to get himself on the pill. Link's pretty well versed in the options for sexually active omegas, but this is the first time he’s actively trying _not_ to get pregnant.

He's also so turned on all the freaking time because of the usual third trimester side effects, not to mention Rhett always being there smelling delicious and giving him kisses and touching him whenever he possibly can. It's all so much more than Link's used to. Sooner or later he’s going to end up pleading to be knotted and making a complete fool of himself because he’s not used to initiating anything sexual without his heat pheromones helping him along.

They're watching freaking Batman Returns one night with Link's leg slung over one of Rhett's and Rhett's hand resting on his knee and just that turns out to be enough to get him hard and squirming. It's embarrassing at first, but at the same time it’s beyond awesome to finally have someone to help him out with these problems. he doesn't have to slink off to his bedroom and jerk off with a pillow muffling his moans.

Rhett doesn't even give him any grief about the Penguin turning him on, he just gives his knee a little squeeze and asks, "Wanna take a break and lie down?"

“Please,” Link answers, his voice cracking.

And that's how Link ends up with one of his legs hitched over the back of the couch while Rhett finger-fucks him and presses slow, wet kisses all over his belly.

He doesn't even have a chance to feel embarrassed, not with Rhett slowly sinking two fingers into him and gasping, "Oh gosh, you're so wet," all soft and reverent against the crest of his stomach.

Link worries sometimes that Rhett might get bored being all monogamous when he's been a knot-it-all for so long. What if he changes his mind about all this and switches back to his old life? No matter how many times Rhett reassures him and kisses him so reverently it makes Link’s breath hitch, Link still has trouble grasping that the reason Rhett slept around so much was because of _him_. Rhett always seems so cool and controlled, the idea of him sublimating his pent-up longing like that just doesn’t compute sometimes. Link’s never thought of himself as the kind of guy people need to sublimate feelings for, period.

He's got this latent anxiety that he really isn't very sexy because during a heat his hormones do all the work for him, but now he and Rhett are doing stuff _without_ him being in heat and what if Rhett realizes Link is the world's awkwardest turtle and regrets having carried a torch for him the past zillion years? _What then_?

But Rhett just seems so _happy_ getting to lavish affection all over him. He's so good at making Link feel incredible, he knows just how to touch him and just what kinds of sweet praises to murmur, all honed from years of practice, never seeming to mind that Link doesn't have Rhett's extensive history of fieldwork under his belt.

The upside of being the object of someone's affection for over half your life, Link figures, is that you don't actually have to do much to make them happy. And the effect he has on Rhett is enough to make Link dizzy. Rhett acts like everything Link's body does is somehow magical, right down to the puffy ankles. 

Rhett leaves searing kissing all over the insides of his thighs and then slides his mouth over Link’s cock like a pro until Link whimpers and arches his back off the couch. Rhett eases his own hand around Link’s when Link fumbles it down the front of his pants, guiding his touches until they’re both slick and spent. Rhett drowses beside him with a smile on his face and his arm around Link's softly rounded belly.

Rhett is the sweetest, softest giant and Link is an idiot for worrying about anything.

There’s no one in the world he would rather launch a possibly-doomed-to-failure internet-entertainment thing with. Not by a long shot.

 

* * *

 

A big part of why Link has never really dated is that it always seemed unfair to the other person. Who the heck wants to date someone who literally gets knocked up for a living?

There was also never really a window to meet someone, considering how often he was either pregnant or about to be, and he could never trust an alpha who he met while he was pregnant anyway. He's read all about how alphas can't resist the scent of a pregnant omega, and based on the casual objectification he’s faced over the past several years he’d rather not take his chances.

Now that all those factors are irrelevant, Link wants to spend a long time learning how to make an alpha feel good. He's never really had to do much before, the pheromones usually took care of it; all he had to do was let the heat help him along.

But here's no heat involved when he bounds up to Rhett and proudly announces, "I'm taking you on a _date._ "

Stuff like this is new and exciting for Link--he's dated some, but not for years, and this is _Rhett._

Okay, so he could have waited until they weren’t in the middle of the local farmers’ market to make this proclamation, but whatever.

Rhett doesn’t even notice him the first time, he’s too deeply engaged in a conversation with a vendor about sandalwood beard oil. Because of course he is.

Link clears his throat importantly. “Dude, just lemme buy you one, I know you want it.” Rhett’s always been way too susceptible to a good sales pitch. “Also, did you not hear me say I’m taking you on a date?”

Rhett raises a brow, but gamely steps aside and lets Link pay for two bottles of beard oil. “What, is In-N-Out doing a two-for-one deal again?”

“Don’t make me change my mind about this, man,” Link warns, shoving the little paper bag into his chest.. “We’re self-employed internetainers now, we shouldn’t be spending _any_ money.”

Rhett waits.

“I made a reservation at Mélisse,” Link admits. “Like two weeks ago. But if you just wanna go hard with the animal fries, let me know and I can--”

Rhett kisses him. Right there in public, between the artisanal soap stand and the organic mangos. Link is contemplating swooning when Rhett abruptly pulls away and leaves him off-center.

“You did this two weeks ago and didn’t tell me until _today_?”

“I’ve never made a date reservation before!” Link squeaks, already stumbling over his words. “I dunno, I thought maybe it was too corny, but you said you wanted to go once and it’s hard to get a table, so I figured... Unless you actually said you wanted to go to _Melissa’_ s, that dive bar in Koreatown, and this is just a...a really fancy misunderstanding.”

The slant of sunlight off Rhett’ cheekbones speaks volumes, but he opens his mouth again anyway. “Can you even eat anything there?” he asks, but there’s a fondness to it instead of the usual long-suffering tone Link’s used to. “And what happened to ‘we’re supposed to be frugal’ or whatever you just said?”

“I’ll tell ‘em I’m on a cutting edge grilled cheese and tater tots diet if I have to.” Link solemnly places a hand on his stomach, where baby Catrin seems to be doing interpretive dance. “Doctor’s orders. And you can just eat anything I don’t like.”

Rhett catches his hand and gives it a squeeze. “I love you so freaking much.”

This time, Link just lets himself swoon.

 

* * *

 

This wasn’t exactly planned.

The date was, thanks to Link’s over-the-top foresight, but everything else unfolds all on its own.

It could have been the alcohol; Rhett is entirely ready to pin the blame there. He had a couple glasses of wine during dinner and tried to tell Link all about them, but Link only grasped that it was red and smelled fruity and he wasn’t allowed to have any. It takes a lot more than two glasses to make Rhett lose his inhibitions, though, and he’s way more likely to lose them just from Link snugging up to him and smiling sweetly.

Which is exactly what happens once they arrive back home--snuggling on the couch and halfheartedly watching a documentary on sharks. At some point, Rhett's hand slides up under Link's shirt to pet his belly and just...keeps on petting. And Link turns his heavy-lidded gaze on him and sighs, “That feels nice,” in a voice that launches Rhett out of his food coma in record time.

It's hard to keep his hands still when he knows he gets to really _touch_ Link now. Sometimes he feels a little like he’s back in college fumbling through his first encounter with another guy, craving everything and sure of nothing. There's just so much he wants to _do,_ and Link is so soft and warm and responsive. And he makes the nicest little noises when Rhett palms his belly; he just can't confine his hand to that one spot.

Link is a fidgety guy. He wriggles and squirms back against Rhett like he's not even aware he's doing it, and if that pushes his shirt up a little higher and Rhett can't resist thumbing one of his nipples, the noises Link makes don’t sound like complaints. And if Rhett’s impromptu belly rub eases too low to be called a belly rub, there's no complaining there either, and definitely not when Rhett toys with the waistband of Link's sweatpants and murmurs, "'s this okay?" against the warm, delicate curve of his ear

He's trying not to go overboard and freak Link out, but he just wants to touch him and wrap him in his arms and make him feel good _all the time._

They’ve done some experimenting with hands and mouths and Link writhing and coming around Rhett’s long, knowing fingers, and sometimes it feels like they make out constantly. But whenever they're getting intimate, no matter how tame things seem, Rhett always makes sure it's okay with Link if things progress. The last thing he wants to do is make him feel uncomfortable. Even now, Rhett lives in fear of coming off like a meatbrained alpha, never mind that Link obviously knows he isn't.

He’s still learning to be more comfortable letting his guard down. Letting himself kiss Link whenever he wants to, letting himself finally tell him all the things he wanted to say that night and bit back because he didn't want to overstep. There are so many fantasies he has that are almost innocent--kissing Link’s big round belly and whispering to him about how gorgeous he always looks when he's pregnant and how good he smells and how Rhett was so wound up that one time he stole a pillow from his bed just so he could have Link's scent in his bed for one night, how sometimes he couldn’t sleep at all because he wanted to badly to lay Link out and just worship him.

And maybe get to taste his slick a little, because he's been fantasizing about that ever since their first semester at college when Link's heat started in the middle of the night and Rhett woke up to their apartment reeking of pheromones. That one sweet heat wasn’t nearly enough for him. Not all of Rhett’s fantasies are chaste ones.

Instead of saying any of this, Rhett presses one last kiss to the hollow of Link’s neck and lingers there, nuzzling him for a new moments. “Can we move to a bed? What d’you think?”

Link draws back to gaze at him, eyes glazed and lips nipped pink. “ _Hell_ yes, we can.”

Everything unfolds all on its own, and they both let it.

 

* * *

 

 

Link's lived a semi-sexless existence up to this point, so for all that he's perfectly in tune with his body and its various quirks when there’s a heat involved, he had no idea he was so easy to rile up. All it takes is Rhett stretching out beside him, nuzzling into his neck and whispering, "You smell so good, babe," for Link to be squirming, his cheeks flushing hot. Who knew all those unruly pregnancy hormones could be harnessed and put to good use?

Rhett gets one big, warm hand down the front of Link's underwear, and if Link were capable of embarrassment at this point in his life, he'd probably be bothered by how quickly a few light strokes brings him barreling to the edge of orgasm.

"Mmm, slow down," he says reluctantly, instantly regretting it when Rhett's hand stops moving. "Don't think I'm gonna last long tonight, bo."

Rhett grins, pressing a kiss to his temple and sliding his hand over Link's belly. "I think I could get you off a dozen times in a row and still come back for more."

Link gives a small, breathless giggle, dizzy at the thought of it even though he knows his pregnancy-stressed body would never have that kind of energy. He's about to say so when Rhett pushes himself up so he can hover over Link, kneeling between his legs and caging him in with his hands on either side of Link's head. He's ever mindful of Link's belly, careful to not put too much pressure on it. Something about the contrast between the predatory stance and the careful concern has the words dying in Link's mouth.

"You're so pretty, Link," Rhett murmurs, bringing his lips to Link's neck and trailing wet kisses down to his chest. "You're so… you're… I can't believe I get to touch you like this."

Link is never sure how to respond when Rhett starts showering him with praise; no one's ever spoken to him like this before. There was the occasional affirmation from a client during a heat, but that stuff never meant anything, that was just everyone drunk on hormones. Rhett _means_ it. Rhett's meant it for most of their lives. All Link can do is card his hands through Rhett's golden hair and guide him up until he can mash their mouths together -- better that than babbling apologies for being oblivious for so long, which is what he might do if his tongue isn't otherwise occupied.

Link's been learning that, under the knot-it-all posturing, Rhett is secretly a romantic. Now that he's dropped his filter, every sweet, sappy thought that pops into his head is voiced, usually directly into some part of Link's skin.

Which is how Link ends up trying not to hyperventilate while Rhett nuzzles his collarbones and croons, "You tasted so good when you let me put my tongue in you, just like I always thought you would," because holy crap, is there an appropriate response to this that _isn't_ blacking out?

Link has been absolutely dying for Rhett to do that again; it's one of the few things he never got to experience with any of his clients. And he was, admittedly, pretty out of it by the time it happened that night, but he does remember it being so good he almost lost consciousness.

He feels like he's fumbling in the dark here; he doesn't know how Rhett just spills these sweet, dirty things out of his mouth without his face catching on fire. Link's not used to doing any of this with a clear head.

He swallows hard. "I...oh gosh...I liked that too, brother," and he's borderline breathless just from getting the words out. He's bad at this, asking for things in bed, even during heats he's never had to actually articulate what he wants, it would kind of just… happen naturally. But damn it, he'll beg for Rhett to put his tongue inside him again if he has to.

To be fair, though, he doesn't think he's ever going to have to beg Rhett for anything.

Smiling lasciviously, Rhett quickly pulls Link's underwear down and off. With a warm hand, he eases Link's thighs further apart, and his fingers find Link's hole in a second.

"Gosh," he sighs, bowing his head to press a kiss to Link's belly, "You're so _wet_ for me, baby."

Link shivers, his cheeks flushing hot. Part of him wants to hide his face, but another far louder part wants to spread his legs as wide as they'll go and push Rhett's head down until he can feel that hot, pointed tongue against his hole.

"I wanna eat you out, Link," Rhett murmurs, hands sliding under Link's ass and thumbs pulling him open. "Do you want it?"

" _Yes_ ," Link whines, tangling his fingers in Rhett's hair, "Yes, yes, God yes."

Rhett's tongue is magical, Link is pretty sure. That's the only explanation for the way his entire body lights up with pleasure the moment Rhett licks into him, lifting Link's hips off the bed to give himself as much access as possible. It's somehow even better than it was during his heat, he's not exhausted or dazed, and he can feel every little flick of Rhett's tongue, every tease and every press inside him.

"You're so good at that," he gasps, tightening his grip on Rhett's hair when he feels a finger slipping into him, Rhett's tongue dancing around it.

Raising his head, Rhett flashes him a grin, lips shining.

"Natural talent, baby," he says, diving back down and licking into him again before Link can scoff at him.

It only takes a minute or two before Link finds himself barrelling towards the edge again, heat pooling in his belly.

"Mmmm stop, gotta stop," he says, breathless, tugging at Rhett's hair.

Rhett looks up immediately. "What's wrong?" he says, a note of worry in his voice.

Link can practically feel his heart breaking; no one's ever treated him as good as this stupid, cocky, beautiful idiot.

"Nothing," Link assures him, petting Rhett's cheek soothingly, hands shaking, "Just… get up here."

Rhett crawls back up, a question in his eyes. Link presses a kiss against his lips, a thrill running through him when he realizes he can taste his own slick there.

"I just…" he whispers, hitching one leg up around Rhett's hips, "I just don't wanna come until you're inside me."

Rhett's breath leaves him in a deep sigh. "You're sure? You're ready?"

"Gosh, Rhett," Link says, "You have no idea how ready I am."

There's a little maneuvering then, because for all that Rhett loves Link's ever-growing belly -- and he proclaims on a regular basis that he loves it a _lot_ \-- it does kind of get in the way of some important activities. They end up on their sides, Rhett tucked up against Link's back, pressing kisses to the nape of his neck as he slides a condom on.

"It's weird," he says, words muffled into Link's skin. "Kind of feels like this is our first time."

Link twists his head to catch Rhett's lips in a kiss.

"Different kind of first."

As Rhett presses inside him, Link can't help but think about the last time they did this. The position was the same, but everything else is so new, and so much better. Link's body accepts the stretch of Rhett's cock just like before, but he's not burning up with fever, he's not clawing back at Rhett's thigh, trying to pull him closer. Rhett takes his time and Link is happy to wait, happy to let Rhett take the lead this time, run a reverent hand over his belly, whisper soft praises into his neck, slide in so slowly and so carefully it almost brings tears to Link's eyes. And when Rhett finally starts to thrust, it's slow and easy, their bodies rocking together in sync.

"Link," Rhett rasps, smoothing a hand down Link's stomach, "Someday, bo… someday this'll be ours."

Link whines, reaching a hand back to lace his fingers into Rhett's hair. " _Yeah_."

"Someday we're gonna do this bare," Rhett says, his voice strained and his thrusts speeding up, "M'gonna fill you up, gonna knot you and keep it all inside and then it'll be our baby in there, Link."

"Gosh, Rhett," Link gasps, placing his hand over Rhett's on his belly, dizzy with the words and their promise.

Everything gets a little blurry then, just a mess of harsh breaths and the creak of bedsprings. Link isn't aware of much aside from the gradual swell of Rhett's knot inside him, growing until Rhett's movements all but stop and he groans, a strangled sound, and Link tries to imagine what it's going to be like when he can feel the wetness of Rhett's come inside him.

When his hips stop twitching, Rhett's hand finds Link's cock, neglected and straining against his belly. All it takes is a few flicks of his wrist to have Link wailing into the pillow and spilling onto the sheets.

It feels like minutes before the spots fade from his vision and he can finally speak. "I'm gonna fall asleep with you inside me," he says, smiling to himself as his eyes drift closed.

Rhett presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, finding Link's hand and intertwining their fingers.

"Anytime you want to, bo," he promises, and Link believes him.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, they’re spooning in Link's bed when they decide to go public.

Link is half asleep, warm and pliant in Rhett’s arms, and Rhett is halfway to cloud nine from that alone.

Then Link drowsily mumbles, "I want to tell the internet I have a boyfriend," and Rhett’s heart melts all over again.

He must make some incomprehensible noise because Link twists around to blink at him. “You wanna? Or is that too crazy?”

Rhett presses a kiss to his temple. “Nah. Not crazy at all. You might give a bunch of fans heart attacks though.” Sometimes it feels like the majority of Link’s regular commenters are convinced the two of them should just get together already.

Looking positively incandescent with happiness, Link gives him a peck on the lips that turns into a grin partway through. “I’ve got a few ideas about how to do it.”

 

* * *

 

Link draws it out a little bit. He only gets one chance to revel in this moment.

The vlog starts with him sitting behind the desk, a huge grin on his face, coyly talking about how he met someone.

"I mean, he's just kind of been hanging around, but he's really cute and I think it's gonna last a while. He’s not perfect, but he’s pretty cool I guess."

He and Rhett are totally banking on some of the fans being indignant about this, so Link blithely keeps on talking, letting everyone believe he’s dating some random undeserving alpha.

"And he's really good about rolling with it when I get cravings," Link continues. "Like right now? I really want salt and vinegar chips sprinkled on chocolate ice cream."

Right on cue, Rhett comes into the shot and sets a bowl in front of him.

Link can practically hear the sound of fans everywhere briefly losing consciousness.

There’s no chance whatsoever of hiding the grin that takes over his face when Rhett sits down next to him.

"I think y'all know Rhett, but introduce yourself anyway," he says, and then he pecks him on the cheek and digs into his ice cream.

Later, he'll have vlogs about retiring from breeding and making some other life changes, but this one is all about Rhett.

In future vlogs, he’ll give proper time to all the different subjects, particularly his retirement. That’s going to be a big deal to a lot of his followers. Link’s vlog has evolved a lot since it started, but it's still, at its core, about him being a breeding omega. He and Rhett are seriously trying to work out the logistics of starting something up together, but it seems prudent to wait until that's more cemented before they go making any big announcements. It seems important to give his fans something positive to hold onto when he tells them that his channel is more or less ending. Right now they don’t have much more than a cobbled-together business model and preemptive job offer on the table for Stevie and her technical savvy if this whole starting-their-own-company thing actually works out.

He does throw out a teaser, though. He just can’t help himself. “We have some big plans in the works, so we’ll keep you posted. Let’s just say you’re gonna be seeing both of us a lot more.”

Rhett’s chuckle sounds a little exasperated, but he doesn’t call Link out for not keeping his mouth shut. He just takes his hand under the table and laces their fingers together. “You heard it here first. We’ve got big things coming your way. It’s gonna be a mythical experience, just wait.”

 

* * *

 

"You're sure you're ready for this?"

Link looks up from his laptop, craning his neck to see Rhett standing behind him, looking concerned.

With a shrug, Link nods, "Not like we can hide it forever, right? I'm sick of filming everything stuck behind that desk, anyway."

Rhett's hands find Link's shoulders, squeezing gently. Leaning down, he murmurs into Link's ear, "You just want to show off, right?"

"Totally," Link grins, turning his head and nuzzling into Rhett's beard.

It's been almost three years since they successfully launched their own company. Two since they officially launched Good Mythical Morning. Six months since they started off an episode by lifting their left hands in unison and announcing, "We got married! Let's talk about that."

The whole crew is grinning when they finally make it out to the set, but none so much as Stevie, who's sitting next to the main camera, smiling wider than Link's ever seen.

"Ready?" she asks, addressing Link more than anyone else.

"As I'll ever be," Link says, taking his seat next to Rhett behind the desk.

Stevie clears her throat. "Okay, guys, this is GMM 400, let's roll it."

Link can't help smiling as he looks into the camera, way beyond being able to keep a straight face.

"There are three hosts at this desk today," Rhett says.

Link turns to the side to give a profile, hand on his already-noticeable baby bump.

"Let's talk about that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it! We made it to the end! The two of us constantly bounce ideas off each other but rarely commit to actually turning them into fic, so this is kind of a big deal for us. It's been a long road full of pining, but we actually didn't veer off course and slam into a parked car! 
> 
> There are a few more moments along this timeline we're still interested in exploring, like Rhett discovering lactation kink and Link freaking out over having a baby he actually gets to keep and both of them learning to be dads to a baby that may or may not be named after Star Wars in some way. Keep an eye out for a coda featuring one or more of these sometime after Christmas. And of course, thank you to the moon and back to everyone who left kudos, comments, and encouragement of all stripes to us while we were posting. We've been blown away by the positive feedback. You're all the real MVPs. <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is a world where there are at least six genders, (alpha, beta, and omega males and females as well as intersex, trans, and nb individuals who fall into all the aforementioned categories as well transcend them). It's a world where the population is a pretty proportionate mix of alphas and betas. Relationships between alphas and betas of the opposite sex are seen as the standard as well as having the highest fertility rates, with the exception of omegas. Omegas are far more rare than both alphas and betas and are essentially the universal donors in that they can be impregnated by alphas and betas of any sex. As a result, on a societal level, these attractions and relationships are generally accepted.
> 
> We made a freaking chart to work out the details, but will spare y'all the ridiculousness of sharing it.
> 
> We've tried to combine this world's perception of gender with the additional prejudices and preconceptions of a rural North Carolina point of view. We both see a/b/o as a trope that lends itself very easily to sex positivity, so it was interesting trying to contextualize it in such a conservative environment. Where Rhett and Link grow up, there's a lot of emphasis placed on whether or not a relationship can produce offspring, often a huge sticking point for conservative Christians. For example, since two alphas or two betas (regardless of sex and gender) are incapable of reproducing with one another, such relationships are seen as less desirable or even as ungodly. As RandL move away from their hometown and the mindset they were raised with, their perspectives will expand and transform accordingly.
> 
> You can find us both on Tumblr and our askboxes are open for the asking. Thank you for reading! 
> 
> [Ell](http://drandmrsmclaughlin.tumblr.com/) and [Eva](https://santamonicayachtclub.tumblr.com/)


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